“Saying ‘Welcome’ To the Morning”
I am an early riser. Always have been. Even as a small child I enjoyed getting up early in order to experience the beginning of a new day. I remember watching the chickens fly down from the branches of the trees where they had roosted during the previous night just as the new day was dawning. I loved hearing the rooster, crowing as loudly as he could, waking up the world around him to the possibilities held in promise for the upcoming day. For me, the time was magical; still is, even though I am no longer a child (except at heart).
Through the years I have made it a priority to awaken early, to “hit the floor”, get moving and going in order to capture (and be captured by) the morning. As a junior and senior high student I had some chores to do before heading off to school each morning. In college and graduate school I would arrange my schedule so that I always had 8:00 AM classes. In most cases, I would be finished with my classes before noon, leaving my afternoons for my necessary jobs that helped to pay my bills and buy the provisions required. Following my formal educational experiences, I kept up my routines that allowed me to continue my preferences for the early morning hours. For the most part, my days have begun well before 5:00 AM, both weekdays and weekends. If I have needed to report for work at a certain time in the morning I usually show up anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour early. I do not like to be late, for any reason, unless it is unavoidable.
In the world that I call “home” today there is an emphasis that I give for the morning hours. I awaken and rise around 4:00 AM, Monday thru Friday, in order to hasten to the fitness center, arriving for my workout (stretching, lifting, running, etc.) by 5:00 AM. The door, allowing entry to the workout area, opens at 5:30 AM. There is a group of a dozen or so “early birds” (like me) that spend about 30 minutes each morning chatting, laughing, moaning, groaning, and sharing life together. Some of us “early birders” have been doing this for more than 20 years. We know each other, very well. We are friends and fellow pilgrims, journeying together. Hopefully, we will continue on. Faces change. New folks come along and become a part of the group. Others find their paths taking them elsewhere, even away. This is a good way for me to begin my days. Even on the weekends and holidays I am “up with the chickens”. There is no need to miss the morning; at least as I see it.
Long years ago, I awaken early one morning, dressed, went outside, walked up the road to the ridge above the house where I lived, sat down on a large boulder, and allowed “morning” to happen. I wanted to wrap myself in the stillness of the new day, to smell the fresh fragrances, to feel the gentle breeze, to hear the stirrings of the song-birds, to observe the movement of the flocks of cattle, to listen to the sounds of dogs barking in the distance, to watch the painting of the colors of the eastern horizon clouds at the breaking of the day, and then to feel the excitement of the lifting of the sun from its cycle of slumber. What a morning!
Upon my return to the house, my mother asked where I had been. I just said, “Saying ‘welcome’ to the morning.”