Holy time:
my holy time is earliest morning, still hours before first light, a deep hush existing as a texture to this time, being felt more so than actually listened too. I love these hours and find myself waking spontaneously even earlier now, drawn from bed from some quiet force that calls for my participation. Once, I would struggle to rise so early, considering it a burned to up before dawn, counting the days until I could sleep in again until the later hours. But I find it a pleasure now, for whatever reason I'm seeking a solitude that can only be found well before dawn.
I belong fully to these morning hours.
truly it's a holy time.
and I guard these hours, almost resenting any foreign sound that doesn't seem to belong to the morning, waking early just to escape the possibility of their intrusion. Of course silence itself doesn't mind any particular sound, simply returning to its prior state, seamlessly accepting a blaring television as easily as the dawn chorus of songbirds. I'm more sensitive though, even as I find myself becoming more attuned to this early silence, I'm just not as quick in my return to a sense of interior peacefulness. Not yet anyway, but I do find that I'm becoming permeated by this holy time, lasting longer through the day now, as if existing as a texture to my own mind as well, being always a silent part of me.
slowly, I'm returning to my prior state.
continuously silent.
and no effort needed for my return.
~
Peace, Eric
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