Thursday, October 20, 2011
Sleepless in Santa Barbara
It's 5:00 a.m. My bare windows read black sky. I've had too little sleep, yet some part of me is eager, like a deer in the forest ready to greet sunrise with an early morning drink at the lake.
I hate to slog a tired body through a bright and glistening day, but I simply can't get back to sleep. It's not wild expectation that fuels me. In fact, for all appearances, this particular Saturday looks dull -- nothing on my calendar but one blank square smack in the middle of October. Even so, I'm prompted to look outside at what surrounds me -- to view the changing colors of the leaves, and to watch the shifting shadows of autumn as they intersect summer's light.
On this one, small day, in these hours before dawn, I'm reminded of that substance that the Buddhists call "The Arising" --and as I contemplate this concept, I can almost hear the day breathing, its heartbeat pulsing somewhere beyond the horizon, pacing forward like a promise -- like a silent serenade.