May morning be astir with the harvest of night;
Your mind quickening to the eros of a new question,
Your eyes seduced by some unintended glimpse
That cut right through the surface to a source.
May this be a morning of innocent beginning,
When the gift within you slips clear
Of the sticky web of the personal
With its hurt and its hauntings,
And fixed fortress corners,
A Morning when you become a pure vessel
For what wants to ascend from silence,
May your imagination know
The grace of perfect danger,
To reach beyond imitation,
And the wheel of repetition,
Deep into the call of all
The unfinished and unsolved
Until the veil of the unknown yields
And something original begins
To stir toward your senses
And grow stronger in your heart
In order to come to birth
In a clean line of form,
That claims from time
A rhythm not yet heard,
That calls space to
A different shape.
May it be its own force field
And dwell uniquely
Between the heart and the light
To surprise the hungry eye
By how deftly it fits
About its secret loss.
-John O'Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings
During summertime here in the Northwest, I find myself waking up much earlier than I am used to during the rest of the year. It begins getting light about 4:30 in the morning and stays light until almost 10. Because the air is warmer I need to sleep with the windows open and begin to crave longer nights again. I have to be much more intentional about getting to sleep early because I know by 6:00 the light outside will be bright and Tune will be ready to go for her morning walk. I have been trying to embrace the gift of these quiet early hours, these moments when new possibility arise and the day is given birth to. I want to become a "pure vessel for what wants to ascend from silence", I want to reach past repetition and old patterns and open myself to new discovery.
Back in January a co-worker of mine went to Italy and brought me back this image of the Birth of Venus who she said reminded her of me in multiple ways. It was a simple gift filled with a generous spirit and invitation into a new imagination for my being. Venus has been my early morning muse lately. Just as she births beauty into a new day, she invites me to consider how I might live into the mythic birthing of beauty with each newly discovered morning?
Of course she emerges from the sea, that primordial place from which all of life emerged, the place where rhythms of tides reveal and conceal the treasures of the shoreline. In the original image she is joined to the right by Horae, one of the goddesses of the seasons, a reminder of the movement of time and the sacred nature of its unfolding. Venus is associated with love, beauty, and fertility and so seems an appropriate muse on early summer mornings when the sun rises in the east, when we breathe in the life-giving breath anew, and as we linger in the space between dreams and awakening. I am listening these days for what I might discover in this Hour.
Who is your muse of the morning these days? What dreams linger on your lips as you rise from sleep? Is there a different quality to your summer waking hours than your winter ones?
© Christine Valters Paintner at Abbey of the Arts:
Transformative Living through Contemplative & Expressive Arts
Become a fan of the Abbey on Facebook, follow this blog on Facebook, friend me on Facebook or follow me on Twitter
You may also like:
- The Artist Begins Again and Again (a guest post at the Sunshine Abbey)
- Invitation to Poetry: Guardians of the Threshold
- Sacred Artist Interview: Marcy Hall
- Expressive Arts
- Becoming Fire
Sammy wrote, on our 6 a.m. walk:
Dog – sorrowful
because he's not
like you
Dog – ecstatic
when most like
dog.
these long days do have an entirely different feel to them than winter. i do miss the dark mornings when i can light a small candle (& see its glow), cuddle up with a quilt and leisurely sip coffee and write while the dawn breaks. i'm not sure who my muse is these days…perhaps it is my old friend, st. lucia which translates as light
i will ponder that a bit more…my muse definitely feels more erratic these days – popping in for awhile and then disappearing on the breeze. maybe it's time to go outside and follow a butterfly to see where she might lead??? xoxooxo
Sammy is a wise dog.
lucy, I really miss the ability to awaken in darkness and watch the light emerge. I am almost always sleeping when it is truly dark out now, so I am missing my friend. let me know what happens as you follow the butterfly! I can only imagine the places she might take you.
I think I read in Presence Mag. a quote by Michael Meade: we must tell a truth as a poet every so often to keep the Muse around.
Yeah, and he just came up with a title: Pair-a-dogs
"May morning be astir with the harvest of night;
Your mind quickening to the eros of a new question,
Your eyes seduced by some unintended glimpse
That cut right through the surface to a source."
those verses especially touch me deeply. Thanks Christine. It's been a while since my mind experienced the "eros of a new question", or maybe I became tired and forgot to experience the "eros".
I love it that I've found another John O'Donohue fan! Beautiful blessing. You've posed a question that I've never thought about before…do I even have a muse? If so, I haven't heard or felt her/him/it. Maybe I need to quiet my heart and listen.
hi , have a wonderful May-Day ===this morning I noticed that I neglected a part of myselve between al these " have to be done°s " MUSIC I am brought with Concert _ going and brought up my children this way : and this morning by chance in TV there was th e European Concert from Vienna , from the Wiener Hofreitschule , by the Berlin Pilharmonics ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,and I am fascinated , it was Beethove n ° s nr.5….there has been a part of myselves simply neglectes…by this week°s training for a monk it is there again…..thank you !!