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|I have the house to myself this weekend, so when I tumbled into to bed late last night, after an invigorating time with my loved ones at Game Night, I felt grateful to know I would be able to sleep in as long as I wanted to in the silence of an empty house that was kept at the low sleeping temperatures that I prefer. There would be no heat blasting me in the face at 4:30am. No one’s alarm would sound the call to jump up. It would be just me. In the silence. In the coolness. Yes, I was very grateful for that.However, this morning dawned early – earlier than I had hoped after a night of battling on the front lines in dreamland. I was pulled to the surface of wakefulness by something I couldn’t pinpoint right away. I noticed my back muscles and arms were tired and I felt foggy. It was a sure sign that I had had a busy night.
I felt angry while I laid there, checking in with the atmosphere and realizing just how early it was. I wanted to be asleep, dammit! I turned over, bunching up my pillow under my head and, instantly, the cacophony started again.
Lined up along the peak of the roof of the house just 10 feet outside my bedroom window was a chorus of birds, led by their fearless leader, The Raven. They began squawking and chirping for all they were worth. It sounded as though they were actually on my windowsill and I sprang out of bed to slam my window shut. They kept it up, though, and although they were slightly muffled, I could still hear them. With their noise and the adrenaline from my quick movements, I was now wide awake.
I had a choice in that moment. Lay there and grow angrier by the moment -or- get up, shake it off and greet the day.
It took me .03 seconds to decide that I deserved to follow the path started by the second choice.
The sun is shining brilliantly in a slightly overcast sky and the house is so still I can almost feel the molecules of air dancing around me like the sparkling motes of dust I’m watching in the morning rays of light coming through the open curtains. Outside, the world is surprisingly quiet. I don’t know where the birds have all gone, but they have and it is so silent I can hear the flag across the street fluttering on the breeze.
I am awake to witness all this.
I don’t always know the “why” for many things in my life. I don’t know “why” I can’t find my keys or I need to get out of bed or I’m supposed to take a certain street. I don’t know “why” I love who I love or say the things I say sometimes or do the things I do or go to the places I go.
All I do know is that I made a commitment to trust my instincts, my intuition. I promised myself I would learn to trust myself. And, while that has been a long, drawn out journey that I’m still traveling, I’ve come to understand that it starts with something as simple as looking at the choices before me and choosing the one that feels like the most loving choice at that present moment.
Even if that means I get out of bed waaaaaaay earlier than I previously thought I would.