Waken

     I came awake. 

    Say the phrase several times.  Let it wisp through your lips to greet the day and spark the magic that lies dormant in your soul.  Speak it clearly with the wonder that it deserves.  Then, ask yourself the question.

    When we walk in the quiet of  the forest or along the beach, how often do we stop and admire the things that we see?  Often?  Each step is a marvel of creation.  The flora and fauna, the mist and the sea.  The sun, the sky, the wind, and the wave.  Are we not astounded by all that we see, and all that we imagine we see?  The heart pounds brightly in the chest, and the spirit lifts us from our cares to soar free within our forgotten dreams.  Why is it then, as we are so amazed by a simple wash of pine or splash of salt air, that we are so common with our own waking each day?

    For all of us, the purity of birth grows more distant with each passing year.  Day after day, mile after mile, we weave the cloth that sheds the tear but cloaks the heart.  We turn our collars, close our eyes, and lose our way.  Each day we forget the truth. The each and every day … we are borne anew.

    I came awake.

    Pause.  Close your eyes and breath deeply.  Drift back to a summer place long ago.  Feel the cool sheets beneath your skin, the willow of breeze echoing through the open window, and remember the light dancing playfully across your face.  The warmth of sun.  Do you remember waking?  The sounds of summer; cut grass, the chirping and tweets, everything fresh and new, all born again as your eyes obligingly parted … then BAM!  There it was.  Awake!  As real as it was wondrous.  Giddy with youth, you charged across the room and down the stairs.  It was pure … it was magic … and it was Holy.

    Holy.  A beautiful word that has been lost in our lives …buried with corrupt interpretation and time.  The dictionary declares it sacred, spiritually perfect or pure; untainted by evil or sin; regarded with or deserving deep respect, awe, reverence or adoration.  Can you think of a better description to ignite our imagination or rekindle our spirit?  Each of us has within them a holy space.  We all had it once. We just need to remember; to awaken.

    I came awake.

    A few years ago I truly awoke.  I remember lying in bed on a common spring morning.  The light was just starting to come in, the smell of fresh cut grass just beginning to peak.  I felt a weight on my chest and opened my eyes to discover the smiling face of my youngest child staring down at her Daddy with pure and untainted adoration.  Her brown hair floated in the soft breeze and the rays of gold crafted a twinkling halo upon her head.  I was alive, I was grateful, and I was born anew.  It was holy.  And, I came awake.

    So every morning take the time to spend a few precious moments to reflect.  Do it before you place your cloak around your shoulders against what experience knows must come.  Do it because you need it more than any self-help book with opinions of little true substance.  Just pause … take a breath … remember your holy space … be grateful for each breath … breathe again, and waken.

I came awake.

“Waken” © 2009 John Anthony.  All Rights Reserved.