Daybreak

I have seen the light and it is bright!  As surely as I can trust that morning is coming, I trust that those of us who don't get and stay connected will be left behind.  I'm trying to think of a movie where that happens . . . where the weak one, the unprepared one, the injured one, the stubborn one just gets left behind.  Can you think of one?  It seems so cruel, but it's just how life is.  So here I am grabbing this opportunity to share via a blog, finally.  Actually, I planned on starting one when blogging was first becoming popular.  I don't quite remember what happened, but memory lapses come more frequently than they used to.  Does that happen to you?  Anyway, here I am with my Facebook page (which, by the way, my 20-some year old created for me despite my protests), my Storm (love! my Blackberry Storm), Twitter, my blog, my webpage, and I just entered my email in another blank field so that I can be notified when Ping comes around.  But, you know what?  It's tiring.  Fun, interesting, connecting, but tiring.  Where do I go for retreat?  Where else?  My garden. 

I have seen the light and it is bright!  For all this technology, all this reaching out making mad webs of invisibly connected networks, for all this tweeting and texting and updating, what I really want more than anything else is alone time -- barefooted in the cool, wet grass; cup of lukewarm, sweet, milky coffee in my favorite cup; barely awake; water wand on the shower setting as I wet the soil, the leaves, the flowers, the mulch, the grass; disappearing into the quiet life around my home.  Garden life.  Urban garden life. 

I have seen the light and it is bright!  Am I breathless from trying to keep up with the rushing change?  Or is it that the sunrise is slowly drawing out the multiplicity of colors in the yard and the profound beauty takes my breath away?  Have you seen this, too?