Sunrise on the Mountain Journal
The sun rise here this morning is beautiful - so layered, so colorful, such soft light. I would that I could become it. Be the light rolling over mountains, mountains rolling over earth. Sky, clouds orchestrating it all. Be it all at once. Be beauty complete.
But in this shell, this limited consciousness unable to absorb but only to focus, to frame, there also is something sublime and I am grateful for it. I am grateful to sit here on the couch watching the bobcat watching me. We - taking in the morning sun. I am grateful to the rolling hills, their patches of snow, creosote, mesquite, and joshua tree reforming the light and offering it up as a gift to me. I am grateful that the mesa’s in the distance are there to hold the sky on their their flat table like surfaces. That the ranges beyond wave like music rising up from the earths core - Rachmaninoff’s piano violent and serene giving form to granite, sandstone, and schist. But mostly I am grateful to be the being who can take all this in one fragment at a time, give meaning to it. To not to be the sky, the clouds, the earth or the sunrise who will never know their own beauty.