Giggle, I do not sleep much. I tend to simply doze in bits. The pre dawn is my sacred time. Every now and then, my little body says it needs more time and I do not wake up as I normally do. ....this morning was such a morning. The little hobbit eyes opened and smiled to see the sun coming in the window. Then a start went through my body....sun???? Sun?! Birds? There is no sun, there are no birds in the early pre dawn. Ooops, I giggled. I had missed the sacred pre dawn. The sun was already just peaking over the mountain, the sky that wonderful blue gray pink color. I stood outside and where my eyes always rest upon the constellation, the moon, the pre dawn silhoutted trees, now I had to squint with the sun's bright smile. A wispy cloud streamed across the sky. The finches gathered in the trees and began their songs. The squirrel from across the street had already made his way over for breakfast and was sitting on his haunches like Godzilla. I giggled to think of him looking at his little arm with a watch and the thought, uuuhhhhh, breakfast please. So many sounds and images, that yes, I hear and see every every morning, but only after I have been awake for several hours. This morning, they were the first.
Oh my friend, the sacredness of rituals. I had missed my pre-dawn ritual. For a brief moment I was almost miffed, thinking myself "lazy" for not awakening as I do. And then gently the whisper came. The rhythm of ritual that brings meaning and mindfulness to our days, our steps, our breaths, our heart beats. But rituals were never meant to become the sacred. Rituals were never meant to become the rhythm. Rituals are like the vibrations and resonances of the singing bowl that calls us to pray and meditate and the celestial songs. Anahata - unstruck vibrations that resound. As I do in the pre dawn velvet of night, when everyone in the neighborhood is asleep, I stood and stretched my arms wide, lifted my head to feel not the moon's warm touch but the brightness and heat of the sun bursting through my closed eyes. I said "good morning" and drew my hands to my heart and bowed deeply, whispering "namaste sweet life. I do so love you." As I straightened and opened my eyes, the morning earth, already awake, smiled. I stood with my hands still to my heart which gifted the sun a sweet tear to drink as it lay in the crevice of my smile. Rhythm, ritual and dawn.... the resonance of being greeting the pre dawn moon and stars in full sunlight. To awaken and see the rhythm and dawn of morning's dance...fresh, crisp, waiting to be greeted. To open my eyes and heart. The ritual of life. The ritual of joy. Fresh. The trigger of my heart not my mind.