You rise early because you sleep early. You wonder if this is good. Will you tire midway through the morning? Will you go speechless and dumb and nod your head and lean on your hand resting on your elbow and rock dumbly thinking, “Day, will you end now?” No.
You will find a sacred space in that peace. No one talks. No one drives by. No one walks near. You sit and need not even close your eyes to find the meditation. For the meditation is in the practice of rising against your tiredness. The flow of a day begins with the day breaking into your consciousness like a wave creeps towards the dunes and, by god, the cool disappears with the warmth of a sun rising over them.
What you imagine fills you with a rotund satisfaction. If it is good, if you love it, if you nurture it, if you give it space, if you believe in it, if you surrender to it, if you open to it, if you have heart for it, if you only will give it your sustenance, some little attention for but minutes of your day, perhaps in this early morning, you might actually find…you grow.
How does it feel?
Birds call to one another and this is your cue: the meditation is over. Your day will be beautiful, even if it is bleak. Your sun will rise and shine even if behind a cloud. Your rain will be warm and you will not feel it because you are strong enough to open your eyes and see what you see without judgement, with only an open heart.