It’s dark in the mornings again. 

There is a point in the height of summer when I can wake at 5 and there will be fingers of light on the horizon. It’s as if the night meets the day in a most conspicuous way.

But we are long past that whimsical time when the early morning feels energizing and full of promise. Now, it is cat-black still at 6. 

Cicadas chirp outside our open windows every night in rhythmic formation, but I’ve learned that by 1 o’clock, they stop. Come morning, nothing. It is absolute silence, no living creature singing except for the cars brushing past on the highway a mile away.

Where I live, there are power lines hanging low and cell phone towers everywhere and radio towers at the half-mile mark in two directions. We are always surrounded by something. The back yard is fenced, the front one open, and a gnarly cat lurks in my bushes far too often for my comfort. 

“Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

It’s the kind of saying I like to think I live by. Perhaps I do. I certainly am the type to buck tradition and stereotype and plan to defy every expectation.

But I live in the suburbs and I am a mother and wife and a very Jewish one at that, so I’m sure there is some amount of expectation in me to begin with.

What’s on tap for today: meditation, then yoga, then coffee with a friend-colleague. Then a presentation with a client, then another client meeting, then a call, then office work. And all the while, the focus is on producing something meaningful and beautiful and satisfying.

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