Several years ago, in the first summer of the pandemic, we were trying to cope with the realization of a long road ahead of us, the unknowns at at every turn, the fear and sadness. Together we were building a daily practice of centering and giving thanks. This passage, written one August morning, reminds me of the never-ending need for that practice:
“How does a morning look and feel to you, where you are? And how do you know? Do you check a weather report first, or go outside? Do you gather resignation as you get out of bed, or catalogue current pains, or give thanks for a new day? Have you imagined or tried dedicating your first breaths to goodness or compassion?
Or saying a morning prayer as the first thing? Daily practice is about orienting and turning to the day aiming toward love. It involves taking in — being present to – more than assumptions and judgements we carry from yesterday. Taking in the sky, the clouds and trees, the sunlight and shadows, birds, flowers, insects, the fact of the earth. Being present to the realities of human limitations, our own and others, while at the same time remembering the immensity of time and space of which each and every life is one small part. Acknowledging, remembering, the possibilities for love (which contains justice and compassion and joy.) Reverence is a good word to describe this process of remembering, orienting and turning.
We begin in reverence for the day and for all it brings – everything welcome and not welcome, everything we think we know and all we do not. With thanks each breath that enters the body. With thanks for the hazy morning sky and the sun coming over the trees once more. With thanks for a chance to let love hold us and move through us for one more day.
May we breathe in and breathe out and bow to the morning, and to Life.”
