Milk&Honey

The sun moves by a couple of degrees, and the birds stop singing. I have never paid attention to the exact time when the morning songs cease. I only notice the complete silence. It’s the silence before the day begins to become disruptive. It’s one of my favorite times to be, listening to the birds before they alert me to the dawning of new things to come with their silence. I have plenty of days when all I am truly aware of are dusk and dawn. Dusk seems to come with the same silence. The sun moves by a couple of degrees and noisy children scatter home. Dogs on leashes are escorted for a quick last walk before nightfall. The aroma of different foods and the clanging of silverware drifts away. I couldn’t tell you the exact time when I notice the silence. As I look to the sky I see the slightest nuance of sun setting to a distinct sunset before it vanishes. Giving room to the spaciousness of the night. Soon enough the bustle of the night activities increases. Cars with music blaring, people on cellphones sitting in staircases seeking illusive privacy as their conversations escalate into arguments. The barking of a startled dog in the far off distance. The faint crying of an infant fighting sleep. Nightfall has taken over the day and I can sink into my own being. It’s cherished time for myself as I can purely express what yearns to be created through me. I have been trained from birth to follow schedules. Going along with timelines, meeting deadlines. Punctuality is a form of respect, being dependable is highly valued. Productivity means to see an outcome. After decades of it, I am mechanical about it, doing it without much thought but still with plenty preparation. Second nature ingrained by the demands of “making it”. But truly, what I am comes alive when I’m not pushed and pulled by human time, and I am falling into the natural circadian rhythm of my being. It’s invaluable to enjoy the generosity of time without being caught in time. ~•~ a beautiful milieu Art Heike K