Perhaps it is because I get up earlier these days, due to a variety of things...work, a busied mind, the purging of the night's dreams, the shifting of my internal clock, the call of my morning workouts (or, in today's case, my Sunday morning ritual of a dawn-run through the woods -- by the way, Nature's Christmas Lights are on again!). Nonetheless, I anticipate morning. And, perhaps not unlike the majesty of sunsets, I have discovered what many others before me have discovered that there is something powerful about mornings.
Saturday mornings (not the Saturday Mornings posts per se), in particular, hold the prospect of something less predictable, less pre-determined. I feel a sense of openness...to my choice of what to do; what to get done, what to leave undone. There is a freedom in it that I have come to relish.
But, even more than this, morning strikes something deeper within me. The prospect of starting a day with beauty, rather than duty. The possibility of a new start, even in something regular. A deeper sense of grace.
I used to not even miss mornings; 'nothing going on anyway' (or so I thought). But now, the chance to freely wonder from the day's earliest moments what a day may hold, energizes me, particularly when I am blessed to have such color and beauty cascading behind me.
West-ward then!
