Morning Routine

I am out of bed early these days, whether or not I have slept. I am re-learning the power of being true to my body's natural rhythms; for me that includes being up and productive before sunrise. My creative energy flows best in the early hours, and I love the inherent promises imbedded in the arrival of each new day.

I've just been outside to greet the rising Sun. Today He is dressed in long gray robes that flow down from the sky to drape the mountains that surround me. The rain that is falling is cold on my skin; the jellycoat I love to wear for warmth is not exactly water repellent but I have never minded the rain.

There is enough of a breeze to blow the rain onto our narrow front porch and to cause the rain chains to sway in a little morning dance, and I find myself moving with them in the soft ages-old dance of every woman who has ever held a child on her hip. I love the plink-plink-plink sound of water flowing down the chains, through the lotus cups, and down the chains again. I settle into one of the front porch chairs, my hands and fingers kept warm by my favorite mug holding my currently favorite tea.

It would be easy in this time of year to forget about the land that holds the Cottage and focus on indoor projects only. Days are often cold and wet; going outside often requires bundling up and putting on my wellies. Most green things are tucked away for the cold and dark days, held safe in the body of the Mother where she will either consume or nourish them, so it seems like there wouldn't be much to see. But the getting acquainted with my land and the land spirits who dwell here doesn't stop with the turning of the seasons; neither does growing a relationship nor educating myself about the terra, flora, and fauna for which I have accepted stewardship. Rising before dawn, the first cup of tea, going outside to walk the land or breath fresh air, to check in with the land as I start my day - these things are part of the routine that are necessary to my healing journey.

On this soft gray morning I watch the way the water runs down our driveway. I see where it cuts across the stones into the Cottage Garden and note that I will have to consult my Chief Engineer about doing something to re-route it there. I carry my mug to the end of the porch and stand leaning against the railing, watching to see how the water moves around the lavender bed and I am content with the dispersed flow through the river rocks piled there. The statue of three little bears makes me smile, as it always does. I affirm our plan to put a rain barrel in under the downspout on the corner of the North Wing, and make a note to check out the South and back yards for rain barrel placement as well. Creating plans for the future helps me to feel grounded in the Here and Now.

I move back to the other end of the porch to sit for a while longer, and am pleased to hear the morning bird chorus start its song. First one, then another, then another joins in. They call back and forth to each other as they work to sing the Sun into the sky. From where I sit, the plink-plink sounds of the rain chain provide an under-rhythm to the combined sounds of falling rain and bird song. In this moment, everything feels right. I carry the fluid grace and soft energy of this day into the house with me, back to my desk, and into my healing process.

Peace out, people.