My favourite time of the day?
Right before it begins.
Right before the night wears away and the sun makes its way up, when the world’s still half asleep and its colours are still dimmed.
I sneak out of the house as everyone else’s still swimming deep in their dreams, and head to my place. Not too far away, but far enough that it takes a refreshing walk to get there.
The stump that once must have been a mighty tree sits there, lonely in the sea of wildflowers, as if expecting me. It offers me its seat and I make myself comfortable, awaiting in great anticipation of the spectacle that’s about to begin.
This is my favourite part of the entire day.
From my observer’s spot on the hill, I watch the world slowly stir from its slumber and I allow myself to be swept away by the beauty and magic of the moment. It never gets old.
I’m greeted by the first lazy sunrays. The air feels somehow new, buzzing with some mysterious energy. Slender pine trees wave their hellos in the mild wind. All colours are painted back into the scenery. It’s no longer still and quiet. Everything’s alive.
And so am I.
I am not only a passive spectator, viewing the show, eager to please my eyes. I belong here. I am an active participant in this everyday miracle, sharing the energy, experiencing an awakening of my own.
This is my favourite moment of the cycle. The awakening. The rebirth.
There’s something reassuring about the precious little moments before the crack of dawn. They hold the promise of daylight, the promise that, on many occasions, has helped me through the night, reminded me that the world is constructed in a way where the dark is as well needed as the light.
And I tell myself that if everything around me, from hushed and dormant, can spring back to life every single day, then so can I.