These colder mornings:
everything seems just a little more difficult on these colder mornings, rising from bed and I'm immediately confronted by a slight chill in air that quickly settles to the bones, joints creak with stiffness and my back aches as I sit through meditation and then begin early yoga practice. It's the price of a body that's carried me long and hard through the years, travel wounds of an adventurous life.
on these colder mornings it seems I feel every past year and adventure.
no matter the weather though, unless extreme to the point of danger, I walk a few miles before the sun begins to rise, greeting the morning and allowing earliest light to gather to my eyes. The cold brings a deeper silence to this time, winter mornings being a hushed atmosphere, and sounds carry farther in the chill air. My neighborhood woods feel somewhat like an ancient cathedral, holy, as if holding every past sermon still lingers and all I have to do is match my silence to the air to hear those voices. But the cold woods have a different sermon altogether, the creak of trees with even the slightest breeze whispering through bare branches, streams temporarily defying winter's attempt to freeze, an occasional stir along the edge of the path as some creature brave enough to venture these colder mornings scamper from my view. It'a beautiful time of year, made more so by the difficulties of arriving here, having to prepare my body more carefully, adding layers against the air, taking precautions against a slip of ice along the path, and bracing myself for that initial chill as I leave the warmth of my house behind.
these colder mornings are a smaller adventure for me now.
yet worth it every time.
~
Peace, Eric
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