(sunrise photo by Andre Daugherty)
There is something about the mountains just before sunrise. There is a weighty quality to this time, before the mountains let go of the sunrise and release it into the sky. The forest is absolutely still… but there is this charged feeling of the coming day. Darkness soon to lighten. Stillness soon to move once again. I love to be awake during this transition and, nowadays, I am usually seated in meditation, which has been a truly incredible practice. To still the body and allow the mind to attend fully to the present moments of the daytime unfolding around me. I find my comfortable sitting posture, and allow the body and mind to settle by focusing on the breath entering and leaving my body. Other than the sound of my own breath, and the occasional snore of a large black dog curled up on my lap, it is so quiet I swear I can sometimes hear my own heart beating. And this silence is not dull, not empty, nor ever is it the same from day to day. And somehow, it seems… timeless.
And then, the very first bird decides to call out. Often, in my mountain holler home during these warmer months, the first birdsong comes from the wood thrush (who also likes to sing the last song before returning to the night). If you have not had the chance to hear a lone wood thrush’s melancholy chant, you can certainly google it, but, like photos of the grand canyon- words and pictures simply cannot do it justice. It sounds to me as if it carries all the sorrow and joy of the universe in its lilting trills and twitters. If only you spoke wood thrush, you would finally know the secret to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything. And, then the sunrise brings a chorus of forest sounds, including our rooster, Khal Drogo. And just like that, the silence is broken, the pregnant night bursts into day, and stillness returns to constant motion. Life’s beautiful rhythms.
Fun facts about the wood thrush include their monogamous mating habits, finding a partner and mating for life, or so I have heard, as well as their extensive wanderlust. These birds travel to a favorite spot to winter as far as South America, and those that summer here return here year after year. I once met a team of biologists studying these types of birds who actually marked their little feets and chronicled their journeys. I have often dreamed with my husband that we could find out the exact location of our fair weather landmates in the winter, and join them there when the snow flies.
I wonder if we would recognize each other’s voices?
In any case, I feel so grateful to be leading a sunrise session at a beautiful overlook space at the Switzerland Inn starting this Saturday, May 28 at 7 am. I hope to simply hold the space for us curious souls to gather and share that incredible time when the earth turns our face to the sun once again. And maybe, just maybe, the wood thrush will reveal her secrets. <3
