Morning Symphony

First posted January 15, 2016.

This morning, I awoke early to a spectacular, if delicate, art show outside my bedroom window. It only happens in the very early hours when the sun is low enough in the sky to be temporarily “caught” in the ethereal glisten of the spider webs hanging there. (We have an agreement, the spiders and I, that they can uninhibitedly indulge in their production of art to their heart’s content as long as it is on the outside of the screen. Both of us faithfully keep that agreement.)

This morning, their art invitation was irresistible and, quite frankly, demanded that I quietly take a few moments and notice the exquisite beauty of the sun shining through the glistening webs. It seemed so still that, except for those webs, I would not have noticed the ever-so-slight breeze that almost imperceptibly touched and embraced them. Their movements accompanied the myriad morning awakening sounds of cardinals, thrushes, doves and other native birds who were gently calling in the day. This symphony was augmented by the feral chickens – roosters, hens and chirping chicks. The surging percussion rhythms of the waterfall and the creaking and knocking of the bamboo grove resulted in a multimedia performance second to none. Even though Mercury is in retrograde, the oblivious spiders, birds, waterfall and bamboo seem intent to share their symphonic production.

This experience makes waking up early worth it as it only lasts a few minutes. After all, the sun has to be responsible to report to duty and do its daily job. The entire world depends on it. The sun does not seem overburdened by such responsibility. I guess it knows that it only has to do what it can do and do it as well as it can. It’s quite simple really. How did we humans get the false illusion that we are the pinnacle of creation?

Anne Wilson Schaef, Ph.D.