This morning in the shimmery time before waking, I heard a whispering voice singing in my head. The verses came in and out of consciousness and disappeard as soon as my palm opened to grasp the pen.
I knew if I tried to pull the notebook close and put the pen to paper, the words would be gone for good. I had to be content – on this morning – with a gentle swaying of lyrical beauty living just beyond my waking reach.
Sometimes, a gentle stalking is necessary when inviting our tender, hidden voice to peek out from under the leaves. It may have been underground for years, sleeping in the dark with our discarded dreams.
Just like when we slow down enough to observe our timid, wild animal breath, coaxing the voice out of hiding takes patience.
So, this morning in the wide open space before waking, my voice came to me, sniffed my ear. No, it didn’t allow me to take field notes. But, oh! the joy of being in that primal place of inspiration!