The Darkness of Pre-Dawn

The humidity gives light an innocent quality, as if the source is surrounded by a halo. I suppose light is generally seen that way. You can wake up with that sort of innocence in your head, but you should scrub the dirt from under your fingernails the night before. Also, you should be ready for a cup of tea in the morning, as the humidity may make sleeping a challenge. Do you find this is so?

I once thought of repetition as a sin. A grave sin. For what are you doing with your life, if you do the same things over and over? I have come to think the answer is: learning to live better. Perhaps I am still groggy-eyed from waking before dawn, which comes rather early in the summer, and this will prove to be a lame complacency.

You can think of the days of your past as practice for today. This is a funny way to think; perhaps it is similar to Tibetan Buddhist training, in which people spend their lives preparing for death. It doesn't seem so fun when you think of it that way, but the process is an odd swap between innocence and experience.

Index