Posted on by Tenneson Woolf

At First Light

It is just after 6:00 a.m. where I live in Utah. The morning temperature is 73 F. An ever slight breeze sways the trees and tall growing flowers. I’m sitting on my deck, as is my habit, to write some of the dream I had last night, and to journal just a bit. I’ll also meditate — breath deeply for a bit from this spot.

I look up after writing, looking east over rooftops. The sky catches my attention. Yes, for the patterns painted. Yes, for the way these clouds stretch to Oquirrh and Lake Mountains on the other side of Utah Valley, 20-30 miles away. But in particular for this bit of red that is just becoming illuminated at first light. Wow, I think to myself, and just dwell on this moment. This is sky that is being backlit, given that I’m looking east, from sun rising over Wasatch mountains behind me to the west. This isn’t red that leans to pink. This is a red that leans to deep purple or burgundy.

This moment is brief. It passes. Those clouds will remain vast, but will turn to their regular grayish, whiteish, blueish colors. I’m glad for the stunningness of the red in the moment.

I believe there is vastness to experience in our work together and in our lives together. I believe there is stunningness of color in our work and lives together. I believe there is momentary awareness to experience together in our work and lives. I believe there is first light, that when noticed together, enriches the day. I believe there is remembering of who we are together, whether in this landscape, or others that any of us notice.

This work of deeper encountering is our work together. I’m glad to live in a time that reclaims this among us, for all of the waking to self and other that it creates, and for all of the utter practicality that that is.

First light.

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