Let There Be Light

This morning as I settled into one of the Adirondack chairs out in front of our house, the sun hadn’t crested the horizon.

Cup of coffee in hand, I waited.

The meadow stretching out in front of me waited too.

Restless, I reached for my phone, and then thought better of it.

The meadow wasn’t restless. It just waited.

And then it happened, as it does every morning. The sun rose above the pine trees behind the house flooding the air with light and spilling across the meadow grasses and wildflowers. And, me.

In dark times we are called to be light in our little corners of the world. To rise above the horizon of another night and spill light across whomever and whatever crosses our path.

A New Start To The Day

The news ain’t great these days.

Most mornings as I wait the recommended four minutes before I can press the coffee, I scan my email inbox. Along with the tantalizing smell of freshly ground coffee brewing, my senses are assaulted with the latest New York Times Breaking News Headlines. While there is the very occasional headline that to my heart constitutes good news—the swearing in of Judge Katanji Brown Jackson—most of the time what I read breaks my heart a little more—the past two weeks have almost put me under—and hope is hard to find.

It’s not a great way to start the day.

So, I changed it.

I unsubscribed to The NY Times newsletter.

I subscribed to Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer’s A Hundred Falling Veils: there’s a poem in every day

This morning I was greeted with my first poem from Rosemerry, about, of all things, hope. (You can find her poem, Longing to Be Seen here)

How we start the day matters. Along with coffee and time with my husband and our dog as the sunlight first hits the meadow, I’m choosing to start my day with poetry, and a little hope.

Maybe you will too.

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(Now before you go jumping to any conclusions, it’s not that I don’t want to be informed about the goings on in the world. I am simply choosing not to start my day there. Being part of a well informed citizenry matters to me, and it should matter to you too. Our democracy depends on it. There are good sources of news, as in real information as opposed to opinion and rhetoric out there, and, spoiler alert, they are not found on social media.)

Wishing It Were Different

When morning comes and my eyes open to the dawn of another day, I have to be honest - my first thought isn’t one of welcome and joy. I’m not one who wakes up with a light heart.

I wish it were different. But it’s not.

I’ve tried waking up with gratitude by expressing thankfulness for a new day. And while I am truly, deeply grateful for every day given to me, I just don’t feel that way as I surface from sleep.

I wish it were different. But it’s not.

In my imagination I should wake up filled with happy feelings, ready to grab life by the hand and head out into the new day. In my imagination, if I were truly crafting a meaningful life, I wouldn’t wake up with a feeling that might best be described as melancholy.

I wish it were different. But it’s not.

Wishing it were different doesn’t make it so. It does, however, make it harder.

Parker Palmer, the writer, activist and teacher, refers to the soul as a wild animal. While it may be tough, resilient, resourceful, savvy, and self-sufficient: and, it knows how to survive in hard places, it is also exceedingly shy. Which means that if we want to catch a glimpse of a wild animal hidden in the forest, we must wait quietly, giving it a chance to emerge. So it seems must I wait quietly for my soul to emerge from sleep. Given quiet and time, and, of course, that sacred first cup of French Press coffee, the soul I know as mine makes her appearance. That’s just how she rolls. Taking me by the hand, we are off on another day of crafting a meaningful life.

As we let go of wishing it were different, we are able to welcome it as it is. And that is what makes all the difference.

Photo by Ben Jessop from Pexels