My hubby will tell you that I'm not a morning person. He rises every morning, without fail, at 5:00 am. Has for years. I languish in bed for another two hours, not quite awake, yet not really asleep. And I absolutely cherish that time.
It is then, between the netherworld of dreams and awakedness, that I have my most creative flashes of brilliance. An idea for a story or poem. A shot I just have to capture on camera. These are my own personal germinating seeds. Sparks that percolate...brew.
Maybe it's because my dreams are so recent, those vivid creations of my subconscious. Maybe it's because my mind is still--no day to day cacophony. No lists...no shoulds...no musts. The day holds endless possibilities, yet I am in no rush to address them.
I breathe. I float. I pray. All of my blessings arise to the top of my cognizance, each joy, each loved one, each expectation. It is then that I am most in tune with the Divine. I am. A human being. One small part of the Whole.
And then, like clockwork, my hubby comes in at 7:00, turns on the television and makes breakfast, shattering my Zen. I must confess, some days I resent the intrusion. But usually by then my connection to the ethereal has begun to fade. Arthritic joints and scratchy throat scream for attention. I stumble to the kitchen for java. My husband laughs at my disarray.
Not a morning person? If he only knew. We'll just keep that our own little secret. Coffee anyone?
I'll buy some thyme from you. Why don't you bottle and sell your herbs? Anything organic costs a fortune in the stores. They are organic, right?
ReplyDeleteYep, they're organic, but nothing--and I repeat--nothing is harvestable yet. This is not an exercise in instant gratification.
ReplyDeleteWho needs an excercise in instant gratification? I've got that down. I'll work on patience. All good things come to he who waits.
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