Mornings

Quiet morning.

I race to our veranda (armed with mosquito coils and long sleeves) to cherish the first most special moments of the day. Love this routine. It’s still dark and the wind…calm. A few birds begin to awake and then go back to sleep. I meditate on love and the gift I give my body by being here. Happy birthday, self.

The wind picks up speed…about the same time each morning, bringing with it that fresh mountain air that I just can‘t get enough of. More please! The breeze carries a slow lone chant from the temple. I join in with my own hushed OM. The faint scent of jasmine comes and goes. I beg for it’s fragrant return. A goat’s cry in the near distance moves me - something so sad about it - such a gentle creature. If only humans could recognize the strength, wisdom and freedom in being as gentle. Lokah Samasta Sukino Bhavantu.

One of the first movements before each dawn (besides medicine-delivery man) is a graceful woman with her long braid (nearly all the women here have long braids) in her green sari uniform carrying a cardboard box full of brightly colored chalk powder. I watch her go from cottage to cottage dropping, instead of drawing, beautiful designs with the powder on each stoop and doorway of the compound.

The sky begins to turn gray and then blooms into pink. I take in the natural rhythm of the day. The birds, now fully awake, flutter about full of fresh energy, circling the compound. Their nearly deafening chatter begins to bring life, consciousness and movement to the day. Patients stumble out of their cottages to breathe in the morning with a stroll through the gardens. I wonder what this day will bring. I wonder what these eyes will see and what this body will feel today.