I wake in the darkened room. The
glowing clock on the nightstand tells me it's 5:14. I lie still,
considering. Our bed is a soft nest, but with dawn arriving so early
these last few months, it's been too long since I've seen the sky
awash with color in those minutes before sunrise. Thirst for
daybreak's blazing hues wins out over the possibility of more sleep.
I rise, dress quickly, and step outside. It is darker than I expect. The
mountains that form this bowl of a valley are massive black shapes
against a sky that is only beginning to lighten. As I walk, I greet
each of them in turn, these peaks that called me to this part of the
world more than two decades ago. This practice, usually taking the
form of an improvised song, has become a daily ritual, one that roots
me deeply to this place.
The wind is strong this morning, urging
me from behind to full aerobic velocity. In five minutes, I round the
bend and hear the rush of snowmelt flowing through the sluice into
the lake. I pass its mad tumble. Here, where no hills or trees
obscure the eastern sky, I see cloud upon cloud, suggesting that
those colors I've longed for will be muted at best. I am not
disappointed. I know other gifts will come, as they always do if I'm
open to receive.
I continue a brisk clip to the northern
side of the lake. The wind has increased significantly amid such
openness, and I know it will be fierce, indeed, when I reach the
lake's far edge. Sure enough, when I arrive there, it has become a
tempest, whipping hair and clothing with an intensity that could be
deemed unpleasant. But I recognize the gift.
I stop, turn to face both water and the
now~moist wind that surges over it. I plant my feet, raise my arms,
and welcome the rush of clean, insistent air. I ask it to loosen and
lift away all that no longer serves my life or the world. Fear,
stinginess, meanness of spirit...I give it to the wind. That which
keeps me small and blind to the pervasive beauty of the Divine...I
give it to the wind. All that holds me back, causes me to be
untrusting, unkind...I give it to the wind.
I begin to sense a lightening, an
awakening. I am being blown and jostled into aliveness. After several
minutes, my arms drop, and with a grateful heart, I retrace my steps.
Again, I reach the sluice, but now climb down its rocky edge to sit
among tall grasses.
Thoughts and rapidly beating heart
gradually slow. My gaze moves from water to cattails to amethyst
clouds, until my eyes, too, cease their movement. I am still and at
peace, one being amid a vibrancy of living things. Sated and scoured clean by the
freshening wind, I rise and turn toward home. My day has begun.
May we each find a way to welcome our own
personal winds and may they blow us free of all we no longer need, all that keeps us separate from love.
Amen
Leia Marie
