Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Segue to Morning. by Patresa Hartman

I am grateful for the early mornings, for the wee hours, for the tiny space between dark and light. This space seems to be where my focus concentrates. My ambitions turn into productivity in these early hours.

I have written of this before, I believe, and I think there is a reason I keep coming back to the cycles of the day -- how they match the cycles of my mind, of my body. I am thirsty for fresh beginnings; how fortunate that we get one every 24 hours.

I cannot get away from the messages the day brings and the nature of the things that surround me. I think what I love so much about early morning, really, aside from the productivity and the innate rejuvenation, is how in tune I feel before the traffic of the day begins. My being is alight as the day starts. I am clear.

I don't feel this in the evenings. I think I go about my day being tugged and pulled and sucked out of my skeletal shell. My evenings are spent trying to reunite my flesh and my soul, trying to re-stack myself like finely painted Russian dolls. It is hard work, this body-spirit alignment. By the time morning has come to visit again, the cycle of separate and blend has completed and I am whole.

I write this entry in the evening, after a day of static and friction. I have rubbed elbows and given directions. I have resisted friction and rolled with friction and tripped under friction. I have been propelled by friction and delayed by friction. Before beginning my gratitude post, as I stared at this blinking cursor, all this beautiful white space, I have had vivid memories of a day full of friction, and I have asked, "What am I grateful for? What I am grateful for?" And there is much -- there is even gratitude for the friction (as I know it serves its purpose well). But what I keep coming back to is morning.

I am grateful for the sleep that will carry me to a new cycle, or a continued cycle -- depending on your angle. At the end of this day, I am grateful for the purpose it has served to carry me forward into the purpose of tomorrow -- an endless stream of seamless segues.


Kathryn Magendie said...

I am reading this on a fresh morning - all the possibilities of the day stretching out. Yesterday I thought how i was squandering my day, but is that possible? I had the days of rushing out and doing doing doing what I HAD to do, now, I can actually, at least for part of the time,do what I WANT to do. ah.

Barbara Quinn said...

I'm a night owl. But I understand that cycling of the day with the mind that you write about, since more creativity comes the later the day gets.There's a certain stillness that is required to allow the creativity to flow. Enjoy it whenever you find it.

Angie Ledbetter said...

Enjoyed the Russian doll imagery of stacking and restacking the parts of ourselves. Hey, maybe all the friction you rumble through daily is honing your stacking skills to a fine art. ;)

Anonymous said...

Having seen every morning for the better part of 29 years through a windshield or from the inside of a tent or boat, morning is best when I am up and about. Sleeping until 6:30 seems to be a late start. I guess this means I am getting old.
Oren (FOA)

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