verge (vʉrj)
the edge, brink, or margin (of something): also used figuratively the verge of the forest, on the verge of hysteria

to tend or incline (to or toward)
to be in the process of change or transition into something else; pass gradually (into) dawn verging into daylight

Monday, January 17, 2011

Morning Glow

I wake up happy.  I wake up happy again.  I can feel it in my feet.  I am connecting to the ground again--I can feel the warm earth through my soles. Sometimes in recent months I would wake up empty. I don't know why--it doesn't matter. Emptiness has a way of seeming both infinite and confining. It's weightless and smothering. Emptiness is quite full of hole-ness, I tried to believe each of those empty mornings.  Holes are hope vessels.  They fill in. 

Along came a dog.  
And I quit my job. 
Here I have a new routine.  

Now I start each single day walking the woods.  Each morning the ground is different from the morning before. The light is always new and pink.  Sharp air cuts very deep and cleans my head while bone cold seems to say keep moving. Sometimes I catch myself smiling at nothing at all, and at everything.  I don't know why--it doesn't matter. I can feel the warm earth through my soul, again.  These mornings glow.  But they always did. 

1 comment:

  1. Alice, you are a joy and a treasure. I'm reading your blogs a few at a time. Savoring.

    Thank you for "Morning Glow." It's beautiful.