Drifting into the morning sun, I linger in its luminosity as it seeps through the windowpane; not through my window, but it’s the same morning sun that continues to invite me into the day.
I hesitate for a micro second, about as long it takes for a sunray to penetrate my sleepy skin. Like a dream, there’s nothing linear about this moment. Its quality vacillates between choice point, and surrender. Definitely, a moment of bliss.
I’ve been an early riser most of my life, and one of the magical experiences is sensing my town also being woken by the same morning sun. I feel connected even before making human contact. It’s a fleeting moment. Once the town’s fully awake and operating, a space emerges between us. The rest of the day is an attempt to return to that connectedness.
Trying to catch that instance, when feeling at-one with the rest of the world shape-shifts into feeling separate, is a bit like trying to catch yourself falling asleep; their occurrence is only possible when the witness is no longer aware. Nonetheless, I continually try capturing that moment in hopes of retaining connectedness, or to at least validate it. There’s a sense of loss in not being able to document or comment on the occurrence.
Dread overcomes me if I linger too long in that loss. Dread overcomes me if I don’t acknowledge it. Either way, if my day is to progress, I must keep my feet moving, and stay grounded. I get into practical mode and mingle with the material world hoping for another chance meeting with a ray of sunshine.