Good Morning!

It's Daylight!

“The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.

Don't go back to sleep.

You must ask for what you really want.

Don't go back to sleep.

People are going back and forth across the door-sill

where the two worlds touch.

The door is open and round.

Don't go back to sleep.”

                                                   Rumi

                                 (from Essential Rumi by Coleman Barks)

Up at dawn, with dogs clamoring to go out. I discovered that there was no coffee. Noooo! I hurried to the car and headed to the McDonald's about a mile from my home. (There a McDonald's a mile from everyone's home.) On the way, I noticed who else was up at such an ungodly hour—dog people almost exclusively. Dead-eyed people traipsing along, zombie-like, beside tongue lolling, peppy dogs. There's a clue here somewhere, I'm pretty sure.

I saw my across-the-street neighbor who used to let her two dogs out to run before daylight. They terrorized the streets, tearing up garbage and newspapers when the mood suited, and in general making mischief. People finally convinced her that unless she corralled those bad-boys they might just disappear into the city kennels. Now, she's up by five-thirty, bouncing up the street with their leashed intensity and, guess what, she's lost about fifty pounds for her efforts. She looks good, y'all. There's a clue there too, me thinks.

At McDonald's, which is located practically in the lap of one of Birmingham's sprawling hospital complexes, (how healthy is that?), sleepy people sat at outside tables drinking from quart-sized cups and piddling with cell phones. No doubt they'd been up all night with sick or injured family members and were now waiting for them to come out of surgery. Hopefully they'll be able to leave the hospital before the food at McDonald's kills them.

One runner. An old man (older even than this old woman), jogging along beside the golf course. I felt his kindred spirit—up with the first slice of day light—sleep skittering away even as he attempts to clutch it to the pillow. Yielding to the inevitable, broad day before him, and hoping that a jog will make him feel up to it. At least he can still run--sort of. He was slow-loping toward McDonald's.

For once, I didn't feel like the lone neighborhood weirdo. Others heed the call of the wild house-dog. They discover that the door is open and round—what's the point in going back to sleep?

                                             In the spirit,

                                            Jane