“Only that day dawns to which we are awake.”
– Henry David Thoreau
Is it so, that we sleepwalk through our lives? Does routine become our habit, habit become our state of consciousness, confirmed and obvious for all to see . . . the only reality that exists?
Frost laced desert grasses grew scattered about between clumps of sagebrush in the Owens Valley of eastern California on a chilling winter’s dawn, and the crusty, frozen dirt crunched under my boots as I set up my camera on its tripod. All the while, my occasional attention was drawn to a golden eagle, effortlessly hovering on the uplift of a gentle, hollow rush of the pre-dawn breeze. The landscape before me, both sensual and finely etched, overwhelmed my senses with the radiance of the multi-hued palette of pastel light, gracefully bowing in reverence to the majestically ascending Sierra Nevada mountains on the far horizon.
Suddenly, the breeze quickened and the eagle ascended rapidly, his gaze fixed on the world beneath him, a feast for his eyes and whole being. I paused, caught up in the moment, to simply marvel at this magnificent aerial ballet unfolding above me. Becoming lost in the moment between thoughts, I became the eagle: lighter than air, with a vision of the world seemingly beyond limits, soaring above all creation as if I was in a dream; because in dreams, everything is possible. It reminded me that the very consciousness of the eagle is, by nature, boundless and free.
To dream is to imagine, to see and feel what we can become; for in its imagining, we must realize that it already exists in creation, awaiting only our calling it forth into manifest being. And for that brief exhilarating moment, the gift of the eagle was a shared treasure of a moment and place in time.
Returning to my terrestrial reality as I packed up to leave, a now quieted breeze whispered in my ear: “A new dawn has arrived and your life awaits. It’s time to wake up . . . and dream.”