Sunday, December 23, 2012
First light, second light.
There's probably few times when we struggle more than against the first light of day. Our perspective is lost in the less than half-light, our footing is insecure and our confidence is still gaining ground from the ebb of the blackness. How comforting it is to see a familiar landmark, feel the grass beneath our feet and the moist air on our face. This is a time to remain steady, wait and watch as our mind comes to grips with the topography, and our fears abate, along with our hunger for the day to begin. Out there, in the grey of the day is everything we left behind and all that lay before us, waiting to be woken by the scream of a gull or the explosion of a wave against the rocks. We wait back just a little before we step into the day, fearful of stumbling, searching intently for signs of the jagged, precipitise edge whose white face beckons for the light to mark the way.
We've seen this before, you and I, back when. We were younger and intrepid, pushing our fears aside and stepping into the light as if to bring it forward, defiantly, daringly, somewhat foolishly wanting to loose our footing and feel the ground beneath our feet move to a fate where we could go, then laugh into the dark and into the light of the new day coming.
Now we wait for the second light, the reassuring light that comes as we ponder the dangers ahead and anticipate our less eager actions. Nothing foolhardy for us now. The end of this next day draws as close as its beginning and we are in no hurry to meet that time head on.
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