On the altar of dawn

This morning I got to sleep in an extra two hours -- thanks to my husband, who stayed home and is taking over the responsibility of rising early to inoculate our diabetic dog. It was lovely to awaken slowly, to lie there and listen to the waves lapping at the pilings below my bed; like God lapping at the edges of my soul.

I drove out to my favorite coffee shop, a little country store always full of old men arguing, its shelves teeming with exotic foreign and local specialties, but the store is closed now, the windows boarded up, a for sale sign posted prominently in front. So I went back to my little cottage, found the coffee and made myself a pot, then settled down for my morning read.

Before I left for the weekend, I'd had coffee with a friend who suggested I bring my driftwood goddess with me for the weekend (I'll have to give you a picture of her later; I don't have one on my laptop). She also thought the goddess might want to get wet again, so I took this little round piece of driftwood with its pendulous breasts and open womb for a walk on the beach yesterday afternoon and set her in a little stream so the salt waves could wash over her. And while she rested there, lapping up the water, I found a sort of throne for her, made up of oyster shells all stuck together.

Returning from the walk, I brought the goddess and her throne into the house and set them up on a placemat in the middle of my table, so this morning when I sat down to drink my coffee she was there, watching me. I had brought a number of books with me, not sure which I would be reading while I was here, and they were scattered about on the table. But the one that lay between me and the driftwood goddess was John O'Donohue's To Bless the Space Between Us, which seemed very appropriate. So I blessed that space, between me and the goddess, and opened the book to this prayer, which I decided to read aloud.

Wow.

A Morning Offering
by John O'Donohue

I bless the night that nourished my heart
to set the ghosts of longing free
into the flow and figure of dream
that went to harvest from the dark
bread for the hunger no one sees.

All that is eternal in me
welcomes the wonder of this day,
the field of brightness it creates
offering time for each thing
to arise and illuminate.

I place on the altar of dawn:
the quiet loyalty of breath,
the tent of thought where I shelter,
waves of desire I am shore to
and all beauty drawn to the eye.

May my mind come alive today
to the invisible geography
that invites me to new frontiers,
to break the dead shell of yesterdays,
to risk being disturbed and changed.

May I have the courage today
to live the life that I would love,
to postpone my dream no longer
but do at last what I came here for
and waste my heart on fear no more.

And I say, Amen to that!