Dawn Intimacy

There is something quietly thrilling about waking early and rising to make tea. I venture outside – it’s quiet and the stars and moon are stark in the dark sky. I hear the world breathe. As I wait for the kettle to boil I stand and listen – in the distance a train, some birds calling the day into being, and the sky changing colour quicker than I realise. With tea I venture back to bed and the vestiges of the film I saw last night, the meal and conversation with a friend linger in me. I have slept lightly. It is not as cold as it has been but cold enough to delight in the warmth of my doona and hot tea. It is the caress of the enveloping stillness that I find sensuous and intimate. A space opens inside me allowing nascent feeling to become imaginative exploration and sometimes like this, writing. It is comforting to feel the busy world resting around me. No traffic, no sounds, no hurried harried humans – I like the depth of the silence, which will break soon. The air is crisp, clean. Is it hope I feel? I don’t think so. I think it is pleasure in being alive. The immense almost desperate intensity of living. This is where my loving goes these days – into the world. The sadness I feel at what we have done to the earth sits in my body refusing to be numbed. The sheer beauty of the world is present everyday for me in these times of quiet reflective awareness. The seduction of our capitalist world distresses me. The movies tempting me with their advertisements to travel elsewhere. But where is elsewhere? I am elsewhere now as I attune to the molecular divinity I sense all around me with the transition of night into day. The adventure of living sensuously presents itself at any moment. Night air settles around me. Day is waiting in the wings. Sitting here writing – seeking the words that convey and craft what I am experiencing is part of the exacting task of creativity. I am composing and making and nothing gives me more pleasure than this. This is living intimately.