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The Morning Light

A few minutes before the sun rose today, the light was lovely. Soft and yet piercing, warm and yet stark, it lit up the everyday objects of my morning walk and made them extraordinary. Mt. Diablo was cloaked in a mauve veil as I stepped onto the street that represents the highest point of my morning exclamations explorations.

The enchanting light touched the rose bushes which I often have stopped to smell because they are old heritage roses planted decades ago when roses still had scent. Their few flowers are battered and weathered now and yet they have a beauty that their modern offspring do not. The light softened the doorway of the garage that same house. The children of the rose-tender are working at all hours to finish up so the house can be put on the market. The one whose loved nurtured the roses is ill and I have watched single light in the bedroom many mornings and read the messages painted with metallic pen on smooth rocks declaring words of love from children and grandchildren which made their appearance about a year ago.

The quiet peaceful time cushioned the upset from the morning news and personal stories which follow me into my day. The sense of sorrow  and dis-ease that we have not responded in a timely way and so have created a humanitarian crisis in Puerto Rico. The news that the administration is targeting Sanctuary States for deportations as a shot over the bow. In that softened world, I could name the people who are in my hearts and their families and also have a quiet moment of rejoice that some good news peppered the bad this morning.

We live in a world with so much fleeting beauty and so much visceral anguish and it is our privilege and task to embrace both each day. As I turned around in my canine companions and I made our way back down the street, the sun is already fully up, shining exuberant and brilliant in a brighter and less nuanced light. And that light, that very special light of common peace is already dissipated and the mountain had lost its shroud of mystery. Still those moments are now part of the fabric of my day and for them I am grateful.

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