The Blue Hour

I was awake before the sun today and enjoyed listening to the birds herald its arrival.  The song was pervasive, as if each bird in our valley was straining to outdo the others, and careful attention could detect chirps further and further away.

By the time we had gathered at breakfast, the symphony was long over.

Since my last visit with our son to the American Museum of Natural History, I cannot get the evolutionary relationship of the birds to the dinosaurs out of my head.  Every time I see a wild turkey crossing the street, I think little cousin of t-rex.  Now in the scheme of natural history, those distant and long gone life forms seem like they belonged to earth’s blue hour, just before the rising of consciousness above the horizon.  Perhaps, if Jung’s assessment that we are but in cave man kindergarten, we are now at breakfast time.

How valuable it is not to loose the instinctual sense of song at the break of day that comes down to us from the prehistoric past.  It opens a much needed pathway to reconnect the spirit with instinct.

I’m planning on getting up early again with the microtrack recorder sometime soon to share the winged symphony here with you.