“Out of nowhere heart-mind comes forth.”
My morning ritual is to stumble out back to the zendo and turn on the electric heaters. I want to feel the day. I want my meditation spot to get warm while I drink my coffee. And I want my bowels to move. I also want to hear birdsong, the chatter of the universe, so I pour birdfeed into the feeder and check the bird water.
Yesterday was a day of clouds and cold winter rain. It’s easy for us desert people to get bone-chilled and sad on days like that. Sure, we know better. Our rational minds remind us how good the rain is for the desert, but deep down there’s a hunger for warmth and sunshine. Radiant heat! Three or four cold days of clouds and rain and desert folk start talking some serious sorrow.
This morning when I got up I was half-expecting more rain. Drowsy and still warm from a night under the covers, I put on my robe and crocs and went out the back door― the new day absolutely startled me. Golden sunlight lit up the rooftops and made Franklin Mountain beyond glow. The white-winged doves, perched high up on the electric wires where the sunshine is the best, began to coo and flap their wings. They were ready with their winter hunger. Likewise the house sparrows and finches (some juncos too) sat quietly hidden in the bushes, watching and waiting. I peed on the leafless desert willow. It too was waiting. I went back inside. Behind me the birds began to celebrate the feast.