Tag Archives: shadows

Wake Up, Wake Up, Wake Up

Welcome dear world to the days of March. Time has inevitably moved on, reminding us how puny we are in the face of a living, breathing universe. I woke up sometime before dawn, only to realize just how close we in the Northern Hemisphere are to the end of winter; the subtle signs of an awakening spring have been minutely revealing themselves and softly proclaiming the season’s coming arrival.

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I have been hearing it in the drip-drip-drop of the snow, and in the blustering of cleansing winds outside my window; I have felt it in the heart of night, with my blankets kicked to the side their weighted heaviness no longer needed for my comfort; I have tasted it in the sweetness of pure maple syrup on my lips, and yesterday I saw it in the flight of a family of bluebirds that I startled from a hedge of Juniper as I walked by.

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Fluttering in unison into the branches of a nearby tree, dressed in celestial feathers, they watched as I stealthily moved close to take their picture–too late–by the time I had fumbled my cell phone into position, with my glasses perched precariously on my face, they nodded their little heads with excitement and quickly flew away.

In the darkness of shifting light, I lie here in my bed and watch the sun rise. I am not quite ready for winter to be over: I still crave the cover of ice and snow to muffle the sounds of the world. It’s been easy to stay quiet, hidden away from the hustle and bustle of what friendly weather will surely bring. Everything will change with the warmth of the sun, and I will be compelled, like the black bears of the forest, to leave the shelter of my cozy den.

Wake up, wake up, wake up. It’s time to rub the sleep from my eyes, and I am not ready.

The dream-time magic of winter can’t last forever, and soon the aura of my surroundings will be transformed from the misty hues of silvery grays and sparkling whites, into a wild symphony of unavoidable brilliancy in every color.

And I, withdrawn and curled up in the deepest of waking-slumber, must stumble out from the shadows of myself, and face the coming light.

Wake up, wake up, wake up. It’s time to rub the sleep from my eyes, and I am not ready.

In Misty Colored Peace, Raven

The Night

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I went outside before bedtime like I always do, it’s late, and the world feels quiet. The sky is clear and filled with stars. There’s a meteor shower tonight, the Geminid. I gazed up into the night for a small amount of time, and saw at least eight before I stopped counting. One was especially bright, and directly overhead. It felt so close that I actually ducked a little. I love the surprise of their sudden appearance. The trick is to be happy with just letting yourself get lost in the magnificence before you, and then whoosh, a streak goes flying by. It’s yours if you see it, a gift from the universe. I quickly say a wish-prayer for each one. I live for these moments when I witness something outside of myself that connects me to the divine. I have been on guard for much of my life, weaving to and fro, trying to stay out of the line of fire from whatever threats lurk in the unknown. I have become numb to the almost normalcy of it all. So when there is a pause, a brief interlude of time, that takes me out of my simmering unease, and into the healing light of holiness, I grab on to it quickly and store it tightly in my hand. And later, when the shadows return, when I am trying to hold back the darkness, I will suddenly remember, and unfurl my fingers to release this healing light back into the night.