Sunrise is the most joyous part of the day, it's like a warm hug from a friend, and an expansive feeling that the whole day is stretched out right in front me, with endless possibilities. I have to admit that the second most favorite is the sun setting and soaking in the few rays left for the day. Although there’s a quiet sadness to it, there’s also a calmness -- as the birds start to quiet down and snuggle up for the night. And a great joy in knowing that it will start all over again tomorrow morning. Regardless of how I feel and what melodrama my mind is entangled up in -- this cycle continues. There’s a great comfort in knowing this. There's a humility in seeing that I’m just a very tiny part of the whole. And nothing I do or leave undone is going to have the same effect as the sun deciding to take a day off. The simple joy of surrendering to a grander scheme of things. As my grandfather often use to say, “not even a leaf moves without His will.”
In the month here in Arizona, I’m learning the real difference between solitude and being alone. Between fear and the unknown. The vastness of my heart along with where the fault-lines have positioned themselves. The many lessons that nature has to teach me if I stay close to it. Perhaps more significant than anything else I’m learning is, the importance of taking out the weeds when they are small. Because otherwise, it's impossible to water the grass without watering the weeds along with it.