The dark sky and the deep quiet slowly make way for the roosters, the orange-ing of the light, the trucks in the distance.
Soon someone might sing a song and I will put away last night’s dishes. Just as I did yesterday morning.
Because today is Sunday, the morning will be quieter.
Life has a strong rhythm, here. You can “feel” mornings differently from afternoons. Sundays from the week.
It reminds me of my childhood in France. Rhythms, rules of sorts. Things which I remember shunning and finding inconvenient (stores close on Mondays!) just as they fed me quietly,
When I moved to the US, I loved this lack of structure. Showers anytime, breakfast for dinner, stores open twenty four hours a day. That fed my Core Essences of Freedom, of Creativity.
And yet. I now find Peace in the rhythm. I find a restfulness in the occasional inconvenience of the structure. It no longer interferes with my Freedom. I no longer fight it.
My cells recognize it.
SCARED OF THE SACRED