Life is returning after the long winter in all its wonder, but nothing can match the spectacle of the spring sun rising. The fog creates floating islands of tree tops bathed in grey then pink then gold then silver. The sun even includes me in its pageant as my shadow stretches, along with those of the trees behind me, half way across the snow covered field.
I wish I could bring you out with me in the morning just to stand together in the midst of all this beauty and to listen to the voice of God in all its stillness. All cares that accompany a ďtime crunchedĒ life slide away in the presence of such truth. The things to which we aspire in our everyday lives, the jobs to do, the money to make, the things to buy dissolve into air before the rising sun.
As hard as it is to describe the sight of the spectacle unfolding around me, thatís only part of the dawn. The only chorus to greet the sun this morning are a single blue jay and a few wild turkeys chatting softly. In the early morning you can feel the sunís call to the earth to waken its sleeping children. You can smell the spring in the cold moisture surrounding you. Most of all, though, you can feel the moment through every part of your being. It feels like maple syrup and new life and cold streams of melting snow. It is sweet and clear and fresh.
Throughout the day ahead I will look at the sunís rays sparkling off frosted branches or breathe that moist spring air, but never again will this moment come as it is now. It is here. It is now. And I am part of it. I wish I had the skill to differentiate the colours of the sky overhead, but they merge so perfectly that I canít. Did you know that there are 400 distinct scents in the cocoa bean? All I smell is cocoa. The diminishing of our senses that accompanies our modern lifestyle is profound.
This morning I am barraged with scents that I canít define, colours that I canít distinguish, feelings for which words donít exist, but the sense of the moment isnít one of inadequacy. It is the simple joy of being. The great gift of the rising sun is that you donít have to make an impression, as if you could. Your shadow stretches with the trees for a few brief moments then shrinks again as the sun rises, leaving no impression behind. In the dawn everything pales before the sun itself.
So, as I come back inside with the dogs to have breakfast, build the fire and begin the list of chores sitting on the table, the responsibilities that accompany life seem rather insignificant. Once again I recognize that I did nothing to earn this moment, but that doesnít diminish the thrill of being here. See you next time.