Personal Transformation at Dawn

Dawn's energy-flow is essentially different from dusk's. Of course in scientific terms, dawn and dusk are the same. And aside from recognizable landmarks, a photograph of one can usually be substituted for the other.

But dawn and dusk experiences differ as much as, well, night and day. And direct experiencing is what life is all about.

It is easy to say "I'll get up at before the crack of dawn tomorrow!" You might decide to start getting up so early to give yourself a head start on your day's long journey into night, so you can arrive early enough somewhere down the line to grab an extra productive period - or break. Or you may figure dawn is the only hour left in a busy schedule for health improvement through power walking.

But good reasons were not enough to effect a change in my longstanding sleeping-in habits. When pre-dawn's dim hour rolled around I would easily talk myself into rolling over again, postponing the early-plan indefinitely. My gut, heart, and mind had a way of rousing themselves just long enough to veto - most vehemently - all previous night's bold resolving.

A "night person" since earliest childhood, I knew not of the wonders and health benefits of dawn's early light until my first middle-age crisis, when one day, out of the blues, I quit my conventional social worker day job on a sudden, gigantic breaking wave of unwillingness to spend any more moments of utter futility, of (probably, unintentionally) doing more harm than good while creating new tangles in the ever lengthening, strengthening, and relentlessly self-replicating strands of red tape. This unexpected giant wave knocked me over and I allowed myself to be carried away, out the agency doors towards my faint but reoccuring dream of innovative, alternative private practicing.

But after I caught my breath I realized I needed a cash-flow generating odd-hours gig of some sort - ASAP - for I had already rented an office! One synchronicity led to another and at the end of the next day I found myself being redefined as a ramp agent for a private ground handling company at an urban airport.

And only a week of mornings later, I found myself out on the tarmac breathing in a curiously wondrous, hazy yet clear, oddly stimulating pre-dawn blend of gusty breezes - an indescribably weird alchemical fusion of fresh air and diesel fumes, the atmosphere of the airport's behind the scenes "secure and restricted" Airport Operations Area. I sat on an open "tug" with a baggage cart in tow, out on the ramp, the airport term for the outside gate area, shocked an amazed to find myself thus suddenly transformed into a "ramper" - and, out of necessity, into a morning person.

I marveled that bird chirps and engine whines seemed to resonate and harmonize rhythmically, and seemed to stream from everywhere (or a mysterious somewhere) behind the opalescent curtain of glowing violet and purple clouds shifting above the eastern horizon, spreading vibrant vital pinkness across the entire sky. Between the clouds, Venus shone brightly enough to be mistaken at first glance, out of the corner of an eye, for the landing lights of a plane on final approach.

By the time my first shift as an airport ramp agent - full of adrenaline rushes - was over, I felt qualitatively and quantitatively different from head to toe and through and through. During my comparatively quiet, contemplative drive home I realized what was so different - I was no longer middle-aged and I was thoroughly enthused!

So I spent several ecstatic years at the airport and basked in days of recharging dawns while I built up my private practice slowly but surely. I am still a "night person" but since my first morning out on the ramp I have been a dedicated "morning person" also.

Dusk inspires me and dawn encourages me, a natural recycling program for self, consciousness, and reality. Sunset turns me inward for dreaming and sunrise draws me back out into dancing!