Monday, August 7

 

 

 

Early morning.  I sit in the dark, my back propped against pillows, a cup of scalding coffee cradled in my hands.  The rhythmic tick of the clock’s pendulum is hypnotic, as familiar and comforting as the sound of my good mother’s heartbeat when I sat, my head nestled against her chest, as a little girl. Outside, a light summer shower falls.  Through the open windows and wafting curtains, I listen to the whispered conversation of tall trees in droning rain.  
 

Early morning is my favorite time of day.  Sitting alone, attuned to my own internal dialogue, I sometimes feel as if I’m sitting in the company of a peculiar, albeit interesting, stranger.  (Aren’t we all strangers to ourselves?) Her random thoughts are occasionally crazy, frequently unsettling, and often uncannily accurate.  As I sit, I jot down some of her insights. Like dreams, if I don’t write them down, I tend to forget them.  


I’m retired, with no deeds to do, no promises to keep.  I have time to sit alone in the dark.  Still, it’s not always easy.  Digital temptations (addictions, really) abound:  Facebook, Twitter, emails, 24/7 cable T.V.  Every morning, I have to make a conscious decision to say ‘no’ to all that and willingly enter the solitary island of my own little world.  I notice when I do, I feel more peaceful, productive, creative and optimistic for the rest of the day.


My quiet time alone is probably much like what other people call meditation, prayer, or mindfulness. Or maybe it's not; I don’t know.  But whatever it is, I recommend it.  As an aside, I think children need the same kind of internal quiet and privacy.  I suspect we all do. 


Be Well and Good Luck,
Martha Maria