My life is made up of a string of days.
These days are rung in and out by the rising and setting of the sun.
The birds of nature herald each arriving new day with glorious celebratory songs of thanks.
The colors of dawn come to life as the sun inches its way above the horizon, warming life as the day arrives anew once again.
The coming of this new day, full of potential, possibility, the promise of experience, is not always as celebrated within my being as jubilantly as the birds full of song outside my window, and I find myself pondering why this is so.
My life is made up of a string of days.
Each day is woven from pearls of moments.
Each moment cast from grains of instances.
Each instant spun from perception, emotion, feeling, inner stirrings, sensations and mixtures of felt senses.
Each day completely different and yet, at times, agonizingly the same.
What is the nature of this sameness that sometimes casts a wave of feeling that I’m simply here doing time, awaiting the end of this string of days? At other times, the exuberance of the mystical opportunity at hand, the palpable vibration of this life so full, so rich, I feel I might explode from the wonder, the gratitude, the joy, the ecstasy, the love.
These string of days weave together to create the fabric of this my life. In hindsight, the days come together seamlessly, revealing the tapestry of an evolutionary journey through metamorphosis, transformation, inquiry, insight and understanding.
Some of these days are dark, cloaked within the clouds of unknowing, uncertainty and the desperate desire for meaning. These darker of days are woven with threads of monotony.
Looking back over these days offers insightful relief, that these days which appear more shadow than light, are a necessary experience along this alchemical path.
These days are character-enhancing dimples in the pearls that make up this long string of days.
As sunlight glistens off the opalescent surface of a pearl, so too there are days amidst the string that shine with such radiance—they illuminate even the darkest of days.
To attempt to capture the brilliance of such days in words is a feeble attempt at best to capture their glory in summation.
In my being, the remembrance of these days lingers still as beams of light, flashes of color, sweet fragrances traveling on the wind. These days are full of overflowing joy of heart, laughter, connection, emotion, a true sense of aliveness.
These days are rich in experiential wonder.
As I look through the string of days that weave together the tapestry of the fabric of this my life, reminiscing over the days of both darkness and light, I wonder, is there any difference really in the richness of experience held within either?
Will there come a time when the dawn of yet another day, amidst the string, arrives and any monotonous sense is evaporated by rapture so great, its inability to be contained bursts from heart into grateful song as with the joyous birds outside my window?
Will there come such a dawn that the doors of the infinite joyous source spring within are blown off so completely that a wellspring of thanks flows unhindered throughout each and every day to follow?
As I glance out my back door the scent of a freshly mowed lawn fills the air. Spring blooms travel on the soft breezes. The birds of song sing out yet another day coming to its end at dusk.
The colors of this another day begin to fade as the sun inches its way below the horizon.
There will come a time when the final dawn of my last string of days arrives.
There will come a last day amidst this string when the tapestry of this life’s weaving is complete.
As I reflect upon the completion of this string of days, I begin to understand the rapturous glory with which the birds of song herald each new arriving day.
Each new day holding out the hand of infinite potentiality to be grasped through experience.
I pray that when the final of my days arrives, that I’ve lived, embraced and experienced each day so fully and completely “enough,” both days clouded with darkness and those brilliant with light, that I’m willing to let go with ease.
I pray that at the end of this my string of days, I let go with ease into a sea of gratitude for having had the opportunity to experience this my life, a string of days.
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Apprentice Editor: Kim Haas / Editor: Emily Bartran