Off in another corner of cyberspace, I photograph the dawning of a new Saturday and write a meditation on the day to come.
On weekends, I tend to wake up several hours before the dawn. I find that in the silence of those dark hours, I can more easily sink into words, into creativity (and often the internet connection is much better). The streets may echo with an occasional vehicle, with an all-night party echoing down from a barrio high up on the hills, a procession wending down narrow streets.
Then the dawn comes … perhaps with birdsong, perhaps with the steps of someone out on the calle below. And then the slow revealing of a new day.
Saturday is the time of the week to dedicate to household tasks: cleaning, laundry and market. No matter for how long I stay in a place, I keep this practice, this discipline. It helps me to keep a routine even when I am traveling, and also helps me to keep on budget.
After those tasks, I then have the rest of the day to go off a-wandering and exploring, journal and camera tucked into my shoulder bag, ready to capture lives and landscapes in poetry and photographs.
But, indeed, some Saturdays I cannot escape to go off a-wandering. My desk may be piled too high with projects to complete, or the seasonal rains (downpour – aguaceros) may keep me inside. I take the time, then, to work on poetry or submissions.
Today, I share some of my Saturday dawn meditations with you, from 2014. In future weeks I shall share other years’ morning twilight musings with you.
And no matter where or how you live, take a day every week to go exploring where you are. Even if you are not traveling, be a tourist in your hometown. Go off and see the unknown barrios (neighborhoods), museums and markets – and write poetry and stories, take photographs or your day’s experiences.
Where shall I go off to? Where shall you? Until we next meet – SAFE JOURNEYS!
September 20, 2014
I sit awaiting the dawn to spill colors across a new day.
To have a spectacular sunrise (or sunset), you need to have just the right amount of clouds in the sky. Too little, and the sun’s rays have no place to snag, no folds in which to pool. Too many, and the sun is muted.
But this morning the sky is über-cloudy, with only a few spaces where blue is emerging.
Indeed, here the rainy season has arrived. At 3 in the afternoon (or perhaps at 5), the rumbles begin echoing through the valley and down the narrow cobblestone streets. Then the crisp thunder overhead, the sharp, ragged lightening. Torrential rain and hail. Within an hour – perhaps more – it passes, as to breathe deeply after such wrath. Perhaps it has not ended, perhaps it shall weep throughout the evening, throughout the night.
Perhaps come next morning, the sky will awaken sunny, clear. Perhaps the emotions spent the night before will continue to cloud another day.
November 8, 2014
When I awoke several hours before the dawn, heavy quilted clouds blanketed the sky. A thick band wavered over the unseen river.
But as the first dawn colors began to touch the sky, the quilt began to fray. And once the sun crested the eastern hill of this holy jaguar valley, the day turned golden.
I bathe in that newly risen star, writing these words, tucking my journal and camera into my shoulder bag …
November 15, 2014
I was awake before the dawn. Birds softly sang for a short spell before falling silent. A dog barked – just a few yaps – then quieted. No traffic, no people …
This should have been my clue that this dawn would be mute. Nay – nary a touch of faded pink, of washed gold tinted the sky.
Layer of clouds upon layer of clouds. A thin, white band backdropped by slate-blue. The distant volcano half-visible, its snow blending into the white clouds beyond.
If the rains don’t come too soon this day, perhaps I shall be off a-wandering and exploring, journal and camera tucked into my shoulder bag …
… ready to capture lives and landscapes in poetry and photographs …
November 29, 2014
Morning twilight is just beginning to paint the sky.
At this hour, the bald-headed man in the apartment above the corner bar is still blaring his music – audible through his shuttered doors and windows. (At least the off-key karaoke singing stopped before 2 a.m.)
All night I have been gathering information about submissions – and have sent off two poetry manuscripts.
But now I think it is time to reflect upon this new day a-dawning … and get a few hours precious sleep before heading to the market.
December 13, 2014
This Saturday had dawned golden …
I walked out to the terrace to bath in that light …
But the call of long-neglected tasks called me to finally be done …
The sky cleared to a deep robin-egg blue, and so I did the wash and hung it
And then a late trip to the market, slipping through crowded streets, protecting my eggs for many blocks from the multitudes of holiday vendors and buyers crowding the walks and streets.
Now at this noon, dark clouds have rolled in …
Usually on Saturday, I go off a-wandering and exploring, journal and camera tucked into my shoulder bag, to capture lives and landscapes in poetry and photographs …
But in this rainy season, perhaps I shall opt to journey within today …
Drop by next month to go a-wandering into Saturdays’ Dawns of 2015.
Until then – explore, delight your senses …. and Safe Journeys!