Getting Out of Bed

Rise & shine!

I don't want to discount how much I've been saying yes to getting out of bed every day when many days I have an urge to hide under the covers. This heartbreak go-around, I've broken a pretty consistent, lifelong habit, which is to go under when I face big disappointment. I started doing that when I was a kid and teachers didn't respond well to my best efforts from time to time, or tried to 'fix' my creative works, make them more in alignment with the assignments. . .

For some reason, I've been compelled to get up out of bed every morning for the past month and face the day. It hasn't been difficult, the habit of rising and shining seems to have been put into me over the past few years. Admittedly, there were days when I was distracted, and less than stellar company, but today, fighting my exhaustion, a poor night's sleep, I climbed out from under my bedding this morning, to climb the mountain and go visit my brother who lives up near Yosemite. I drove a winding dirt road to meet his delightful new house, studded with stone work with small surprises of crystal and heart-shaped rocks, a stone-lined dipping pool, goats and chickens, breakfast made from freshly laid eggs, homemade espresso and steamed milk, and a leisurely time talking and catching up with my brother, who'd once been my best friend and who, because I grew selfish and withdrew, I'd grown a bit distant from over the years.

Though I didn't want to leave the property, he wanted to take his new inflatable raft out on the Merced River and float through Yosemite Valley, though we didn't know if the late July thunder clouds overhead would spoil our efforts.

When we arrived to the gate of Yosemite, we found the entry swift, surprising for a weekend in the summer. Then, like a little bit of magic, the clouds cleared, but too late for the raft-rental company, who'd pulled their seemingly 500 boats and left the river to only, it seemed, us!

We talked more and more and floated and rowed, and I lifted my eyes with eye to the face of Half Dome, which my brother just climbed with ropes and stakes, and El Capitan, one he'd climbed before. He showed me a smaller (few hundred foot) climb which he said he could take me on. And now that I've jumped out of an airplane, and don't seem to be afraid of heights (as long as I'm in good hands), I'm ready to climb--wherever my brother will take me.

Today is a gift I find I cannot yet--even at this late hour--give up.

"Each day is a little life: every waking and rising a little birth, every fresh morning a little youth, every going to rest and sleep a little death."
Arthur Schopenhauer