Generally I'm a deep sleeper. I do think moms tend to have selective hearing when they sleep, i.e. the slightest sound made by one of my kids will wake me up. But other than that, I rarely wake during the night. It's a blessing I got from my Dad. I fall asleep easy and stay asleep easy.
I do wake from time to time - those times when I wake with a start, certain I heard a door slam or a window break. Usually after a quick mental survey that all is well, and I fall right back to sleep. Then there are those times when I wake and am immediately compelled to get out of bed and check things out. This happens once or twice a year. Last night was one of those nights.
The clock read 3:43.
Out of bed, check on my younger son (my older son was sleeping over at Grandma's). Pulled his covers up and found that he was fine. Kissed him on the forehead (couldn't resist).
Next, look out the windows. The cars seem to be OK, nothing going on in the neighborhood. Back yard looks fine. One time when I woke like this one of our cars had just been broken into. Another time there was a coyote running down our street - there is a small forest at the end of the block inhabited by wild rabbits and therefore coyotes. But last night nothing seemed amiss.
Yawn and wonder about going back to bed. Then I thought, nah, I'll just sit at the computer for a moment. Read some blogs, checked the news (because sometimes when I wake like this it's because something is going on somewhere else in the world). Nothing compelling there. Posted a few comments. Read my e-mail, answered one. Some of the blogs I read and people I e-mail live halfway around the world, so it was daytime where they were.
Looked out the back slider. The first thin hint of light was dawning. Not visible light, rather a perceptible fading of the dark. You know what I mean.
Went to our bedroom, was going to get back into bed. Looked out our open window and was struck by something.
The birds.
Granted what was going on was nothing new. I read an article recently about the diminishing of birds in American neighborhoods. Not so in ours. I'm not a birder, so I can't identify what I heard. There were at least 7 distinct voices and four distinct songs... some voices were singing the same song, but in rounds and harmony.
This has to be my favorite time ever. It always has been, but I'm not really a morning person, so I miss it most days. I realized what I hate most about winter is the late dawns and the cold. Because I love nothing more than sunrise and birdsong and sleeping with the windows open so I can enjoy both, even while in my sleep. Something about life seems so dead in the winter with the windows closed and no birds singing.
I wanted so badly to go sit out on my deck and watch the show - but the logistics of doing so were enormous. My husky would want to go out if he heard the door open, and he can't be let loose in the yard these days - he's Houdini in a fur coat - so I would have had to go out and tie him up. Then he would have been barking at the cats who were out or howling at the moon, making all our neighbors mad.
So there I stood, in the bedroom window. It had rained last night, so everything smelled damp and clean. There were a few clouds, but mostly the sky was starry. And the birds. They sang and sang, heralding the coming of day. I breathed deeply of the night air, and pondered God and the meaning of life. Well not really, I just stood and breathed. Closed my eyes and breathed. And I felt peace.
It was then I began to realize why this moment touched me so.
You know, these birds celebrate the coming of the day every day, as if it is some new and glorious experience. They never tire of it, they never say "We did this yesterday, do we have to do it today, too?" They don't think about it, they can't help it. It is simply in their nature. They don't know the sun has to come up each day, but it does and they sing about it as if it is the first time ever. They don't know it will come up again tomorrow. Or maybe they think their singing is what causes the sun to rise? No matter, they announce it to the world each day with equal joy - each day this summer until some inner instinct tells them they must move on, for the winter cold is coming.
I want to feel so celebratory each day, for no apparent reason other than that this day exists - that it came into being with the rising of the sun and it is worth singing about.
And I thought - there is this God - this Lifeforce - Who created this sky and these clouds and those stars and this rain - that grass and that tree. Who taught these birds to sing and bid them to come sing in MY tree on THIS day, this day I happened to get out of bed before dawn to hear them.
And I thought- I don't care who people say God is or God isn't. S/He might be wind or life or air, Jesus, Yahweh or Allah or simply innate in me. Sorry if that offends, I simply don't care so much who man says God is supposed to be.
In this moment, with these birds and this sunrise, I Knew God, I Felt God, I Smelled God and I Heard God.
I Breathed in the Essence of God in this dawn.
I listened until the cacophony died down, feeling the breeze and seeing the sky lighten ever so slowly. The I climbed back into bed. The clock read 4:43.
Peace.
I do wake from time to time - those times when I wake with a start, certain I heard a door slam or a window break. Usually after a quick mental survey that all is well, and I fall right back to sleep. Then there are those times when I wake and am immediately compelled to get out of bed and check things out. This happens once or twice a year. Last night was one of those nights.
The clock read 3:43.
Out of bed, check on my younger son (my older son was sleeping over at Grandma's). Pulled his covers up and found that he was fine. Kissed him on the forehead (couldn't resist).
Next, look out the windows. The cars seem to be OK, nothing going on in the neighborhood. Back yard looks fine. One time when I woke like this one of our cars had just been broken into. Another time there was a coyote running down our street - there is a small forest at the end of the block inhabited by wild rabbits and therefore coyotes. But last night nothing seemed amiss.
Yawn and wonder about going back to bed. Then I thought, nah, I'll just sit at the computer for a moment. Read some blogs, checked the news (because sometimes when I wake like this it's because something is going on somewhere else in the world). Nothing compelling there. Posted a few comments. Read my e-mail, answered one. Some of the blogs I read and people I e-mail live halfway around the world, so it was daytime where they were.
Looked out the back slider. The first thin hint of light was dawning. Not visible light, rather a perceptible fading of the dark. You know what I mean.
Went to our bedroom, was going to get back into bed. Looked out our open window and was struck by something.
The birds.
Granted what was going on was nothing new. I read an article recently about the diminishing of birds in American neighborhoods. Not so in ours. I'm not a birder, so I can't identify what I heard. There were at least 7 distinct voices and four distinct songs... some voices were singing the same song, but in rounds and harmony.
This has to be my favorite time ever. It always has been, but I'm not really a morning person, so I miss it most days. I realized what I hate most about winter is the late dawns and the cold. Because I love nothing more than sunrise and birdsong and sleeping with the windows open so I can enjoy both, even while in my sleep. Something about life seems so dead in the winter with the windows closed and no birds singing.
I wanted so badly to go sit out on my deck and watch the show - but the logistics of doing so were enormous. My husky would want to go out if he heard the door open, and he can't be let loose in the yard these days - he's Houdini in a fur coat - so I would have had to go out and tie him up. Then he would have been barking at the cats who were out or howling at the moon, making all our neighbors mad.
So there I stood, in the bedroom window. It had rained last night, so everything smelled damp and clean. There were a few clouds, but mostly the sky was starry. And the birds. They sang and sang, heralding the coming of day. I breathed deeply of the night air, and pondered God and the meaning of life. Well not really, I just stood and breathed. Closed my eyes and breathed. And I felt peace.
It was then I began to realize why this moment touched me so.
You know, these birds celebrate the coming of the day every day, as if it is some new and glorious experience. They never tire of it, they never say "We did this yesterday, do we have to do it today, too?" They don't think about it, they can't help it. It is simply in their nature. They don't know the sun has to come up each day, but it does and they sing about it as if it is the first time ever. They don't know it will come up again tomorrow. Or maybe they think their singing is what causes the sun to rise? No matter, they announce it to the world each day with equal joy - each day this summer until some inner instinct tells them they must move on, for the winter cold is coming.
I want to feel so celebratory each day, for no apparent reason other than that this day exists - that it came into being with the rising of the sun and it is worth singing about.
And I thought - there is this God - this Lifeforce - Who created this sky and these clouds and those stars and this rain - that grass and that tree. Who taught these birds to sing and bid them to come sing in MY tree on THIS day, this day I happened to get out of bed before dawn to hear them.
And I thought- I don't care who people say God is or God isn't. S/He might be wind or life or air, Jesus, Yahweh or Allah or simply innate in me. Sorry if that offends, I simply don't care so much who man says God is supposed to be.
In this moment, with these birds and this sunrise, I Knew God, I Felt God, I Smelled God and I Heard God.
I Breathed in the Essence of God in this dawn.
I listened until the cacophony died down, feeling the breeze and seeing the sky lighten ever so slowly. The I climbed back into bed. The clock read 4:43.
Peace.
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