There is an old hymn 'Morning has broken' that many of us 'older' folk know from the singer Cat Stevens https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GXWI6ISkzlI
Blackbird has spoken like the first bird.
Praise for the singing,
Praise for the morning,
Praise for them springing fresh from the world.
Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven,
Like the first dewfall on the first grass.
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden,
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass.
Mine is the sunlight,
Mine is the morning,
Born of the one light Eden saw play.
Praise with elation, praise ev'ry morning,
God's recreation of the new day.
Morning has broken...
This plays in my head when mornings are a bit rough which, for some unknown reason, seems to happen a little more often than I care for.
I remember the mornings of work, kids and school. They were hard. Rushing to be somewhere, trying to get kids ready for school, snow days, hot summers, winter vacations, it all slipped by so fast. What I wouldn't give for one of those early morning scrambles out the door with my boys now.
Like my own childhood I thought those days would never end but they did. One day my boys were little, messy creatures. The next, they were grown men. Now they are married and one is a father. How fast the time flew and I wonder, did I spend enough time with them? That is the thing about parenthood, you don't know if you've done it right no matter how great your kid turns out. There are always questions.
The thing about the song is that even if you don't believe in God, Buddha, or some deity there is always an awe, a magical moment when the first light of morning comes. Right now our 'black bird' is the crow or raven as it circles in the sky calling out, the dew is more of a frost as winter is creeping up on us and the world (at least here) seems to be falling asleep rather than waking up as it is a season of change. But even as we head into the coldest part of the year, the mornings despite their temperatures and lack of greenery can be inspiring. Taking a moment, despite the lack of sleep and the feeling of total crankiness, to look out on my small space in the world gives me inner peace. It makes me breath, it makes me create, to move on, to hope, it keeps me alive. I don't know in that mad rush of childhood with my boys if I passed that on to them. It took me too long to learn that lesson, the one were you stop and breath and when you do the world slows down and you can sometimes look back to where you have been and if you are fortunate you can sometimes see through the morning haze, where you might be going.
Blackbird has spoken like the first bird.
Praise for the singing,
Praise for the morning,
Praise for them springing fresh from the world.
Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven,
Like the first dewfall on the first grass.
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden,
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass.
Mine is the sunlight,
Mine is the morning,
Born of the one light Eden saw play.
Praise with elation, praise ev'ry morning,
God's recreation of the new day.
Morning has broken...
This plays in my head when mornings are a bit rough which, for some unknown reason, seems to happen a little more often than I care for.
I remember the mornings of work, kids and school. They were hard. Rushing to be somewhere, trying to get kids ready for school, snow days, hot summers, winter vacations, it all slipped by so fast. What I wouldn't give for one of those early morning scrambles out the door with my boys now.
Like my own childhood I thought those days would never end but they did. One day my boys were little, messy creatures. The next, they were grown men. Now they are married and one is a father. How fast the time flew and I wonder, did I spend enough time with them? That is the thing about parenthood, you don't know if you've done it right no matter how great your kid turns out. There are always questions.
The thing about the song is that even if you don't believe in God, Buddha, or some deity there is always an awe, a magical moment when the first light of morning comes. Right now our 'black bird' is the crow or raven as it circles in the sky calling out, the dew is more of a frost as winter is creeping up on us and the world (at least here) seems to be falling asleep rather than waking up as it is a season of change. But even as we head into the coldest part of the year, the mornings despite their temperatures and lack of greenery can be inspiring. Taking a moment, despite the lack of sleep and the feeling of total crankiness, to look out on my small space in the world gives me inner peace. It makes me breath, it makes me create, to move on, to hope, it keeps me alive. I don't know in that mad rush of childhood with my boys if I passed that on to them. It took me too long to learn that lesson, the one were you stop and breath and when you do the world slows down and you can sometimes look back to where you have been and if you are fortunate you can sometimes see through the morning haze, where you might be going.
