I wake up early (pre-6) these days to get to work. After a good night's sleep, that first hour casts a stillness over the yet-dark world that settles over my mind in a blanket of peace. I desire, I have to admit, to relish it, to simply let it soak through me. It is the only time I ever want to sit for a while and pray, or meditate, or even slip outside and do some quiet manual labor.
On good mornings, I can see the appeal of the farmer's life: to step out in solitude before the cock crows and smell the quiet scent of morning on the fields. And I understand what is most succinctly called Sabbath: a break, a "sanctuary from time" when the rushing world slips by, felt but unheeded for once. This is where the magic of sunrise comes from for me.
I remember on camping trips in the Scouts that I would get up early on most mornings. Part of this is that I've always been restless in sleeping bags, but it gave me an opportunity for quiet contemplation. As the first few wakers rose (mostly adults), there was very little conversation. I would stoke up a morning fire, maybe make some coffee or start in on breakfast, but mostly I'd sit quietly and think on the world, listening to the stirring of the birds above. The wan light of morning is a gauzy magic.
I think I'm going to start waking early on weekends. Weekdays are, of course, no time for stillness: I'm always running late. I wonder if I can get my fill on those days when I would normally sleep in.
By my hand,
~Michael Akerman
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