There is something extremely sacred to me about the morning. I covet it. I revel in it. It quiets my soul before the chaos of a day begins. But, I have to chase it and catch it or else it eludes me and for the rest of the day I feel its absence. It's like a refuge, or a preparation. Without the morning a day feels a bit off . It's the beautiful alcove to every good day.
It's separate; it's unique; it's sacred. It's like the world is catching its breath. It's slow to wake and stretch, giving ample space for preparation. I thought this as I sat on my back porch this morning observing the world. There was no rush, no hurry to run into the world and its problems; everything was content to simply be . The mind feels free to range and explore, contemplate and contend with its own thoughts, but the whole beauty of the morning is this-freedom. I like freedom...
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