Through the Window; In Search of Morning

Outside the window, except for a few lights on the street below and in the buildings around me, it’s black. Large frosty clouds of exhaust from rooftops and cars passing by break up the blackness just a little. Several bulky-looking pedestrians pass by, walking quickly despite their bulk; one is running. Cars move slowly, as though they’re not quite thawed, and as though their grip on the road can’t be trusted.

Inside, the forced air heating my space wakes the wind chimes in the window, producing the quietest of melodies, and the memory of summer. The brightness of the computer screen tells my brain it is morning, time to leave behind the consciousness of the night. It also tells me that wind-chill values are below minus 40 degrees, and that frostbite can occur in minutes.

It’s a new day. And though we take yesterday with us, like mud on our boots after a muddy trail, it is new. I resolve to stay rooted and present and engaged, through and with and despite the mud on my boots.

3 thoughts on “Through the Window; In Search of Morning

  1. So evocative! My office also has wind chimes (capiz shells) that the forced air heating my space moves around. I read this before setting off for the dentist this morning and thought I should be grateful the wind chill here was only in the high teens. Why doesn’t that ever seem to work, I wonder? 🙂

    • Thanks Joycelyn. It’s a good question you ask. Why doesn’t merely thinking we should be more grateful work? (I’m pretty sure that was a rhetorical question, but I feel like answering it nonetheless; sorry!) 🙂 I rarely genuinely feel gratitude on telling myself I should. I genuinely feel it after I’ve honored the other messier feelings that have surfaced, after honoring them has, as it so often does, naturally brought in its wake genuine empathy. I think gratitude isn’t so much (as is popularly preached and believed) an attitude, as it is a by-product of surrendering to sometimes unpleasant realities. More a piece of the full range of human emotion than something we can put on because it is encouraged and respected and pretty. Can we not, after all, detect the put-on empathy and gratitude as veneers in a heartbeat? And isn’t the real thing, while perhaps more rare, infinitely more powerful?

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