Dawn, the liminal space where night kisses light, when the world still sleeps, the stars slowly fade from the sky and a glow seeps through introducing the day. New life starts when we acknowledge we are still sleeping. Life passes us by, picks us up in it’s sweeping current until something alerts us to our blankness, the dead parts of ourself… then and only then, does the resurrection occur. The resurrection of the sun.. the promise that it will rise again, the one true and unchanging normal.
Dawn ushers in a new day. Though this moment of our quotidien seems romantic, it is but a mystery to me; I do not like waking. It is a fight everyday to get out of bed. To feel a rush of joy upon opening my eyes, the sensation does not happen for me. Though, it is up to me, it is my choice to let my night fade, to release my sleeping ways and to embrace the new and powerful resurrection that occurs each morning. I open my eyes, wide to the world and with the hope and expectation to be enchanted by what I see.
In reading Thomas Moore’s The Re-Enchantment of Everyday Life, he recites a Passamaquoddy Indian poem:
For we are the Stars. For we sing.
For we sing with our light.
For we are birds made of fire.
For we spread our wings over the sky.
Our light is a voice.
We cut a road for the soul
for its journey through death.
And for this reason I follow the sun and rise each morning to cut a road for my soul and sing with my light.