Now that I'm waking up an hour earlier without really wanting to, I'm struck by how much birdsong can stir my soul. Imagine: Those creatures we take for granted arise each day with the sun, heated by the early morning light. They sing tunes that reach our ears when we are in the upper atmosphere of slumber.
We forget the things that make us joyful. That seems to be one of the undercurrents of modern society. That which lifts us up is deemed to be not as important.
Perhaps that's why things often seem so broken.
Someone I know died last week and is being buried today. I'm going to miss it because I have to work. I have to take notes on what happens in a public meeting. This is what I do. I listen to the birdsong of bureaucracy in hopes of writing a tune about how things work.
The person I know drank himself to death. I heard details last night about his passing that truly horrified me. His body fell apart under the onslaught of alcohol. I can fully understand how people want to give in and go that route.
I don't want to go that route. I want to grow towards the light. I want to wake up earlier. I want to embrace the things that make me joyful. I want to learn how to heal and create.
I want to memorialize this person by being better, by encouraging myself to be stronger and by continuing to embrace whatever philosophy seems to have lifted me out of a dark, dark hole.