Intentionally Taking A Breath

We're busy people. Its our nature, and its how we do things. As Americans, our society demands us to have our time filled with a planned event at all times. 6am: Wake up; 7am: leave for work; 8am: arrive at work; 1pm: eat lunch; 6pm: go home; 7pm: eat dinner; 11pm: go to bed. Rinse. Repeat. Everyone has their own schedule, their own hectic busyness. You do, I do. Some of you more than others. It makes days drag on, so that you wonder when they'll ever end. And when they do, you ask yourself what you truly did that day. What was unique, what set that day apart from every other Thursday? Often enough, the answer to that question is a little sad. I had tuna instead of roast beef. I took the 15 to work as opposed to the back roads. I had a chance to see this in action Friday morning, and it saddened me to no extent. Hundreds upon hundreds of people going their separate ways to work; school. And what played out before them was not noticed. It was most likely considered an annoyance covered up by sunglasses and visors attached to car ceilings: the beauty and majesty of the very ball of fire that keeps us alive billions of miles away, rising above the purple mountains of Ramona and beyond, as it rotated into view. It started as a light in the east. As dawn approached, the landscape took on a certain lighting seen only ten seconds before sunrise. The air felt fresh, the land seemed new, and then the earth stood still; holding its collective breath. A speck of light pierced the atmosphere above a distant peak. The single blinding ray grew in a matter of seconds into a brilliant display of pure light who's majesty could never be done justice with mere words. Mist and fog were struck by the spectacle, and as if bowing to its awe-inspiring beauty, ceased to exist. Shadows formed amongst suburbia, outlining each tree, house, and car unconditionally. Birds celebrated in full chorus. The new day was born! As a simple human being standing on a hill overlooking the valley, I could do nothing but gape in astonishment that such beauty could exist. And no one cared. The general populace ignored the spectacle, and took its warmth and light for granted. Normally, I would have been banging away at my alarm clock's annoying wake up call. But I chose to witness the inspiration of the sun's rise in person. Instead of taking things for granted, I took a breath inward on my own volition, and expelled it with just as much conscientious effort. I, along with the rest of nature, breathed in the first breath of the day, and cherished it. Few realize what happened at 7:14am, October 23rd, 2009 in the Rancho Bernardo valley of California in these very United States on planet Earth in the distant arm of the Milky Way galaxy. But for those that witnessed it for themselves, let them never forget the gift that God gave them: the gift of free will; to break from the pre-determined schedule, and experience something extraordinary.