There is a kind of holiness in a newborn day, a round, rosy tinge of hopefulness that satisfies my soul and inspires renewal within my spirit. About one year ago, I began a simple predawn ritual of openheartedness. Long before dawn, I crawl out of my bed and make my bleary way to our house altar. I light the single center candle while my eyes are still veiled in sleep. The buttery flame promptly connects me to the Mother, to the earth, to my ancestors, to my own divine life-force. This deed is also one of faith and hopefulness that the day that is soon to be upon me, will be kind to me, and that I will be kind to the day. The modest flicker of warm golden light that is cast upon my face in the darkness just before dawn, has enriched my life in the most intimate and meaningful ways.
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