Why I wake up early

A good friend told me, after hearing of my sunrise walks, of a book by Mary Oliver, a favorite poet of mine, titled "Why I Wake Up Early."   I immediately ordered it, and loved reading it.   Here in Sedona I have another book of hers, titled " Long Life."  In it, she has eloquent words about getting up for sunrise that mirror my thoughts beautifully.

     "There is a rumor of total welcome among the frosts of the winter morning.  Beauty has its purposes, which, all our lives, and at every season, it is our opportunity, and our joy, to divine. ...

The sun has not yet risen but is sending its first showers over the mountains, a kind of rehearsal, a slant light with even a golden cast. The light touches every blade of grass, which then burns as a particular as well as part of the general view. The still upright weeds have become wands, encased in a temporary sheath of ice and light. ....and now, enough of silver, behold the pink, even a vague, unsurpassable flush of pale green. It is the performance of this hour only, the dawning of the day, fresh and ever new.  This is to say nothing against afternoons, evenings, or even midnight. Each has its portion of the spectacular. But dawn--dawn is a gift. Much is revealed about a person by his or her passion, or indifference, to this opening of the door of day. No one who loves dawn, and is abroad to see it, could be a stranger to me."

     About a half hour before the sun rises, I walk out the door with Leo, our dog, and in less than ten minutes am at the edge of the wilderness and the beginning of a trail.  This morning I take the one that leads over a ditch, through a gateway,  around a cluster of prickly pear cactus and mesquite bushes,  and then up a steep slope to a hilltop from which I can see in every direction.  The Mingus mountains to the west,  their heights covered with a powdering of snow, are already reflecting the coming sun.   I face east, take out my flute, and play the ancient Zuni sunrise song as the sun rises.  I feel one with all the ancient people who inhabited this glorious land who did the same through many centuries.  A quail cries welcome to the sun too.  A flock of birds rises up singing.  In every direction the golden light gilds the hills and valleys.  A new day, fresh from the hand of Godde, is offered again.  I receive it as the first day of the rest of my life, and in this moment, once again,  I rejoice to be alive.  As the Jewish sage Abraham Heschel said so memorably:  "Just to live is holy;  just to BE is a blessing."   Amen!  So it is.