Morning Prayer

This is me riding my bike just before dawn. I started in darkness. Then there is the unfolding of red, the first gaping yawn of morning, which seems to last forever, as if there is nothing else the morning has to say or do. But now it is the sudden radiation of liquid gold, born of the true sun, that floods the valley faster than I can ride that takes my breath away. I am never prepared for how aggressively it rises up the walls of the mountain ridge, a life force wrapping itself around the sleepy earth.

It is the mythological re-enactment of all creation. It is the dance of my ancestors. It is my morning prayer. It is the mantra that instantly heals and makes me anew. It is my voice just before singing. It is remembering who I am before my eyes have opened. It is knowing you are in the world before we have met. It is knowing that in this golden light I am forever home.