Light
resilience and heliotropism
One of my deepest gratitudes is for my belief in the morning. In all my years, I can’t recall a day when I didn’t want to get out of bed, save for illness or a demandingly topsy turvy schedule. I’m pretty happy to see tomorrow when it comes and always have been.
However I got that resilience, it has served me well. I’ve just kept going. I made the path by walking. As we all do.
Whether it bustles or offers sweet, soft, stillness, there’s a welcome at the beginning of the day—an offer to try again—an opportunity to do better than I did yesterday. To be kinder, more compassionate, more focused, disciplined, and more recently, to have more fun. Fun wasn’t in the equation for a long time—I was too hard on myself. Stepping away from performing music has helped. I can now allow myself to occupy a more human, vulnerable, more well-rounded place. The confines of a working artist’s life can be narrow—it takes 24/7 self-focus—everything is geared toward keeping the thing on track and it’s hard to accomplish anything if you aren’t working at it all the time. And though it can be rewarding, the travel is punishing and the rewards, financial and otherwise, fluctuate wildly.
That’s all to say I’m more stable now. Truth be known, I’ve always sought a position of stability, however much an illusion it is. The peripatetic life holds little appeal for me nor do rock & roll hours. Sleeping late makes me feel like I’m missing the day.
That all feels like a lot of deeply ingrained habits too. I wonder how much of my love of the morning is a knee-jerk response to being scared at night when I was a little girl and young teenager? I remember having a fixation on being in bed at a certain time on school nights. My mama certainly must’ve found me fussy and particular. It was partly due to my role in the family that I felt like I needed to keep things under control and developed habits like I’m describing. It begs the question “is this the past running things? Or is this how I really like it?”
It is a deep privilege to be able to think about such things, and a blessing to have come far enough to allow the thoughts in, as well as let them pass. The law of detachment encompasses ourselves—I don’t want to get hung up on anything about myself anymore. As I wrote last Sunday, now is a time for ease, for acceptance, for embracing more than ever that the answers lie in the questions. For instance, I just wrote myself into understanding why I’m attached to morning light. Right then.
Of course, it has everything to do with the beginning.
I was talking to my dear friend Libby the other evening about trying things we’re not good at. We both admitted that we aren’t wired to attempt things outside our wheelhouses and it made me wonder where that comes from. Seeking praise, validation, ways to increase our fragile self-worth, to keep up a façade with ourselves, perfectionism? I don’t know. But I was proud of Libby for showing me a vase she made in her pottery class. It is a sort of misshapen thing, and we laughed at it, then admitted how much we both loved it and found it beautiful and amazing, imperfections and all. She’ll never look at that vessel and not remember how she pushed forward with something she didn’t know how to do. She’ll never not remember how she gave herself permission to be less than perfect.
Those sorts of habits take a lifetime to break. But I started to understand, after I turned fifty, that the second half of life is mostly about that—unbecoming. The truth is, I’ve been attached to having early riser be part of my identity. As if it somehow makes me more virtuous or together. It doesn’t. But what it does do is give me a little time and space to appreciate the light to which I am drawn. It gives me life. It gives me a stable starting point. It gives me a sense of parameters, which I need. Not control, but a personal boundary that helps me stay centered. It’s funny how such a little thing such as what time I wake up can be so prevalent, but upon deeper inspection I see: going to bed on time when I was young made me feel like I would be prepared for the next day. I guess I’ve always leaned on tomorrow.
Phototaxis: a kind of taxis, or locomotory movement, that occurs when a whole organism moves towards or away from a stimulus of light. This is advantageous for phototrophic organisms as they can orient themselves most efficiently to receive light for photosynthesis.
Peace. Love.
Allison
Toward. The. Light.
It’s been challenging to remember that at times this past week. Thank you for the apt reminder.
Always feels good to read your words, Allison. Love the mornings too. Everything about it. The very best part of the day.
Thank you for sharing today. I always enjoy hearing your voice in your words.
The sculpture is beautiful. Took a peek at Nina’s art.
So nice!
xo