Morning has broken, like the first morningBlackbird has spoken, like the first birdPraise for the singing, praise for the morningPraise for the springing fresh from the word
(Sung by Cat Stevens. Lyrics by Eleanor Farjeon. See more at: http://www.allspirit.co.uk/morning.html)
Very often as I hurtle through these busy summer days, always rushing it seems, and always falling a bit further behind with each day, I find myself humming one old tune or another. There was a time in my life when through meditation and contemplation, and a bit more self-discipline than is seemingly my lot just now, I could successfully quiet the nagging and pesky inner dialogue which is so often a part of the human condition. It seems to have crept back in over the course of several years, and now be intent on running my life. It is back with a vengeance, and the only way I keep it at bay is to let the music, that lives also in my busy mind, play. So I often hum as I go about my daily business. Over the course of several decades, I have acquired a rather immense library of familiar and dearly loved tunes. This is not something I think about. Songs, some I have not heard in many years, are just there. Sometimes it is the full experience— lyrics, tune and even the approximate year and the band who recorded it. Other times a tune will worry around my mind, and I am unable to let it go till I remember the words that go along with it. At times like that, Google is a wonderful tool. Mostly though, the music just serves as a backdrop to my activities, and sometimes something I see or hear brings a particular piece of music to mind. At times like those, I often fancy that the music, the particular song I am hearing in my head, is a message. I think that Spirit has to find other means of speaking to us when we get so busy and involved that we ignore or under-nurture our spiritual sides.
|Eastern Sky at Daybreak|
Such seemed to be the case as I gazed out the window early one morning a week or so ago while I waited for the coffee to brew. The sky was, simply put, beautiful. Mornings are often lovely here, but that day was magnificent. As an old Cat Stevens (Yusuf Islam) song I had not heard in years began to wind softly through my consciousness, I shook off my morning torpor and ran to get my camera. How exhilarating it is to venture out early and greet the day. In the days since, this tune has often been in my mind. So, is there a message there? I think maybe the answer is yes. Morning has broken— that could just be an archaic way of saying that it is past dawn. Or, it could be a more personal communication to a woman whose favorite time of day was once morning. Now, I get up grudgingly, wincing at the aches and pains the night seems to inevitably leave me with. I do not even court wakefulness once I am up, as all that accomplishes is to remind me of an endless list of tasks that need to be attended to. So, I cling to my grogginess and more often than not miss the beauty of the early day. While I will say that I am doing ever so much better than just a few months ago, I still have a very long way to go. I exist these days in a sort of busy void, neither particularly happy or unhappy, but preoccupied and rather unfocused a good deal of the time. Once again I am quite certain that I am being nudged though, to wake back up to a greater reality, to See and to Breathe in Life rather than just getting through it. "Praise for the singing, praise for the morning. Praise for the springing fresh from the word."
I spoke before of quieting the "inner dialogue", that running conversation we all carry on with ourselves in order to assure that we are we, that reason and consciousness are firmly in control. What a load of bull our egos insist on feeding us. I long for that quiet place inside, for truth and the opportunity to experience what I truly am. I think that what I need to cultivate while I wait until I am able to undertake the Path toward Enlightenment I sometimes See so clearly before me, is openness and acceptance. Until I can embrace this mass of contradictions which has become me just now, I cannot move forward. I cannot be what I truly am until I accept myself and forgive myself right now. In earlier times, this Spiritual progress came no easier or quicker, but having already run this particular course, I am afraid that my impatience is showing. During that long ago spiritual quest, it took me months of meditation before I one day realized that I had finally achieved that long sought inner silence, and as soon as I realized it, it of course ended quite abruptly. (The need to "think" about what I had accomplished defeated it completely.) But I kept at it, the intervals of peace grew more common and lasted longer, and I found out that what fills the silence is ever so much better than that which we manufacture to hide from it. In silence, we learn to speak with, rather than at, God.
|The White Rose-- Spirtual Purity|
|There's no place like home!|