In the Softness of First Light

There’s a sacred stillness that lives in the early hours of morning - before the hum of life begins, before the world remembers its noise. When the air is cool and heavy with quiet, and nature still rests in its gentle rhythm of breath.

This is when I rise.

Not to do, but to be.

To sit within the silence and allow myself to sink deeply into the energies moving both around and within me.

To feel - not just my own emotions, but the pulse of the world itself.

It isn’t meditation in the traditional sense.

It is presence.

A soft, unguarded awareness that listens without needing to respond.

In these moments, I can sense the deep undercurrent of collective emotion - what humanity, the earth, the creatures, are all carrying.

The grief.

The exhaustion.

The yearning.

The hope.

And I let myself feel it.

Not to claim it as mine, but to allow it to move through me.

Because emotions, though not tangible, are real in their energetic form. They are currents of unmet need - expressions of the human spirit trying to find balance and understanding.

Our reactivity, our intensity, is often just our inner child reaching for something it cannot name.

But when we allow emotion to simply exist - without judgment, without suppression, without the need to make it truth - we begin to clear.

The fog lifts.

The heart softens.

And we see, and feel, more clearly.

When we set down our sword of retribution and our shield of protection, even for a moment, and choose to be still - to listen, to feel - we become conduits for healing.

We help move the stagnant energy of a weary world.

Though we each live separate lives, we are not separate in consciousness.

Quantum physics reminds us of this through the theory of entanglement: that what happens to one, in some way, happens to all.

We will not always agree. Nor should we. Diversity of thought and being is part of the beauty - and the ache - of being human.

But what we can do is make space within our quiet mornings to feel the weight of our shared humanity.

To allow collective grief, regret, guilt, and sorrow to flow through us rather than calcify within us.

Because when we do, it becomes lighter.

The illusion of separateness begins to dissolve.

Retribution loses its power.

And what remains is truth - the Universal truth - that there is no us or them.

There is only we.

Each of us is but a drop of water in the vast ocean of consciousness. And every drop matters. Each one contributes to the purity - or toxicity - of the whole.

So, I sit in the silence.

I breathe.

I feel.

And with each exhale, I release what was never mine to keep - so that what remains might be a little lighter, a little clearer, and a little closer to love.