From the Morning into the Night

Sometimes I wish I were a morning person. On the rare occasions when I do find myself awake before everyone else, it's so peaceful. The light in the morning, milky and mild, is unlike any other time. There's something really magical about starting your day slowly and easily - some yoga, some hot tea, and may be a good book. Your mind and body unfold without effort, taking their time.

But I don't normally start my days easily. I jump into them two feet, not with yoga but with rushing to get dressed and fed and into the day ahead. I'm a night owl by birth. The quiet that you find in the morning is a quiet of birdsong, lovely for sure; the quiet you find at night though is that of wanderers.

In the darkness maybe you hear nothing but the wind or the soft tremble of a creeping animal, but often there's the distant thrum of a few lone cars heading off somewhere undetermined. When you hear cars in the morning they seem to be off just to a normal life, work or school, but cars at night seem destined for bigger things. In the night I feel destined for bigger things.

Unencumbered by the awakening bright light of day, my biggest stories and tales stretch before me in the night, like a lit path. La Luna comes out at night, and her light is not the hot, jarring touch of the sun. La Luna's light is cool; it's an icy caress, trailing silver and glass. It's fantasy and daydream.

Yes, truly I am a creature of the night. While I will always appreciate those rare quiet early mornings when they appear naturally, where you will find me settled in, is the evening hours. Curled up with a hot drink, a good book, a soft puppy next to the lone light in the house my body settles and my mind unfurls. Nighttime is my moving, fluid meditation.