This morning, before sunrise, I responded to a note
from a friend in Europe, then went out with my dog to watch the sunrise over
the high desert.
As I was sipping on my first morning coffee 6000
feet above sea level, the desert changed colours and aroma. It is not a smell,
but the desert plants seem to have a different aroma with the changing
temperatures of the day. “A glorious
sunrise” I thought.
And then I realized that while I cherish these
moments of solitude with my dog quietly lying down near me, the inspiration I
sometime get is based on intuition and illusion. The trigger to this thought
was that I had never questioned the words “Sunrise” or “Sunset” although I know
that the sun does neither of those. Yet I have found ample inspiration to love,
write or just feel part of a new day by awaiting sunrises and sunsets.
Awaiting illusions when intuition takes over
knowledge. Awaiting inspiration when nothing else matters.
… So, I took a few more sips of coffee and
challenged my now clearer mind to take me forward into the co-existence of
intuitive expectations while ignoring my knowledge base.
I immediately felt at ease accepting that I am past
and present, while any intuition I have is about the future. I have observed
sunrises since I knew observing and still, I expect to see something new every
day. To feel in a new way about an old observation. Intuitively I know that I am past and present
yet never the same. My present changes my past. My past allows my present to
have illusions. Even more, to cherish many of these illusions because they
challenge the very foundation of the knowledge I have!
Now the rays were already warm and making my dog’s
ears pink in their transparency. And he
knew, because of past experience, that it was about time for us to take a long
walk together. He had patiently sat on the rocky ground allowing me to have my
morning illusion and perhaps inspiration.
So we did. He has his usual path that he checks
carefully at every trip. Perhaps a rabbit had slept under that rock last night.
Or a deer marked his territory by urine. He somehow knew, maybe by intuition,
that rattle snakes would not be out at this early hour. And I trusted him and
allowed him to go off path into the tall and dry weeds.
.. When we got back to the car, he sat down on his
hind legs and waited for yet another routine. For that gentle petting I perform
running my fingers through his hair to find sticky desert burrs. Then I
carefully remove them as he gratefully looks into my eyes.
I call it “Braille loving” as I run my fingers
carefully into where I have learned, in our 11 years of companionship, the
burrs will hook to his hair. I am almost sure he thinks of it as the reward for
joining me in the desert before the illusion of sun rising.
After all, he is all past and present, with
predictable expectations from the future.
July 13, 2015
©Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2105
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