The hours before sunrise are known in Vedic tradition as Amrit Vela, the ambrosial hours. In that special time, the world sleeps; crack heads and partiers have gone to bed, and even the night hunters like foxes have quit their roaming. The early birds are all asleep, dreams of worms dancing in their heads. The ubiquitous sound of traffic has slowed to a barely perceptible hum. Even the police are idle, napping in their cars, eating donuts, or preparing for their shift to end. Night shift workers have just passed the ebb, where life force is at its most dim, and it is a struggle to stay awake. It seems that virtually no one is awake. In these pre-dawn hours, it seems I share the world with God alone.
In this balanced moment, as the star-spangled sky slowly fills with pre-dawn light, one can feel the shift; the past recedes into the present, as the new day unfurls, as night gives way to day. The dark bulk of the mountains is slowly painted with shape and form, clouds are accentuated with gentle and subtle eldritch light. I watch in awe as the Master Artist paints a new day, stroke by loving stroke, creating a new world with the growing light of Life.
This special time is when I sit in meditation, when I perform my kriyas and pujas (rituals and observances), when I perform my ablutions and prepare for my morning yoga class. Sometimes I sit in my Yin poses and read something inspirational. Sometimes I just stand there and gaze at the stars. I typically am accompanied by gentle Celtic flute and harp music, or crystal singing bowls (prayer bowls). Sometimes I just sit in silence and feel the life rush into my body, feel the hope dawn in synchronicity with the new day.
Now, when the ether is free of electronic detritus like cell phone signals and the endless radio waves we use to signify communications, my thoughts, prayers, and intentions float free and unobstructed. I send out gratitude and hope, intentions that the rest of the world experience the joy and peace I wish for my own loved ones. In the pre-dawn silence I hear only the whisper of the wind, the soft singing of the creek. The air unmarred by man-made sounds, I can almost hear the still, calm voice of God, of the AUM that underlies all other sounds, the sound of the universe turning and of grass growing; the sound of change.
Eventually, the spectre of time intrudes, and I gather my things for my morning pedal; pack with yoga clothes and gym clothes (for after yoga), an orange and a headlamp. Most of my stuff was prepared the night before, as my Mom taught me when I was young. This keeps me from having to rush around getting ready, frees my time for enjoyment of these rare and special moments. I relish them. Finally, I am ready and step out into the new day. The stars have faded in the east as the glowing colors spread, leaving only the bright dot of Venus and a crescent moon (or whatever astronomical configuration exists that day).
For a while, the only sound is that of my tires on the pavement and my softly sung Hare Ramas. The occasional car turns into a growing stream of cars, all the early birds rushing to wherever it is they go. The pastel marvel grows in the east, a gorgeous panoply of colors that would make Rembrandt or C.M. Russel's jaws drop in awe. Or perhaps it is a relatively colorless dawning, obscured by clouds or enhanced by the gentle fall of snowflakes. Either way, I ride gladly through the gathering day, feeling the life and gladness well up in my chest like a wave.
Finally I arrive, moments before or after the instructor for that morning's class does. It is six AM, and dawn is approaching. Exchanging a few quick greetings, I set up my yoga mat (trying to avoid staying in the same old place) and head into the locker room for one of my favorite morning rituals: the warm shower before yoga. I let the water wash over me like the rains of Shambala, cleaning away the past, the dirt of the world outside, purifying and preparing me for the best ritual of all. I may sing gently, or just enjoy the sensations of the water on my body, the growing energy and gratitude within. I am all alone here, in a place where no one dare enter. It is safe and special, and smells good.
My eagerness to get into the warm womb of the yoga room pulls me away from my rejuvenating waters. I make my way onto my mat, usually the only one in the room. Gathering in the last of the ambrosia, I release the last of the previous day's worries, cares, and toxins (or so I think). I gently begin to come into my body, occupying every cell and filling each with love and gratitude. I slowly work each limb, to the Rice Krispies crackle and pop of waking joints. As people begin to trickle into the room, I slowly finish my preparations and come to a gentle child's pose until I hear the instructor's voice greet us, signalling the beginning of our morning Vinyasa flow.
As we begin, the day is truly dawning and the last of the ambrosial hours fading. The night is already a distant memory, and we send each on their respective ways with a grateful AUM to unite our breaths and send our love out to the world. We are 'doing yoga' for all those who cannot, and we feel honored. We truly are the lucky ones, as we synchronize our energy in Sun Salutations, while the the sun slowly rises. Our spirits soar ands our bodies sweat, and eventually we lay there in corpse pose, having gone through a minature cycle of life; beginning in embryo pose, moving to child's pose, through the range of Vinyasa poses, and finally ending up in Savasana, the corpse pose.
We lie in our puddles of sweat, invigorated and relaxed, grateful and peaceful. Our bodies, minds, and spirits have been turned on, each part energized, harmonized, and synchronized. Each part has been invited into allegiance by the ancient and timeless sequence of movements that have been developed over the millenia, by generations of dedicated sages and yogis. We lie there not in a state of bliss, but as manifestations of bliss. We are well-tuned instruments, the hands of the Divine, content to rest now that we have re-established our identities as children of Divine Light. After a quick shower, we are on our separate ways, bringing our yoga off our mats and into the new day. It before eight AM, and the world has mostly woken up, or begun to.
On the weekends, my ambrosial hours differ slightly. I think I will sleep in ... and do; until at least five thirty or six. At this time of year, I am still in the edge of the transition: between the end of the ambrosial hours and the beginning of the dawning time. I perform my yoga alone outside, as the rest of the world sleeps in innocent weekend oblivion. I enjoy the emptiness of the house, perhaps cleaning up a bit and then maybe reading something inspirational before finally turning to the computer to type a few words before my grandson awakes for a Play Day.
These special ambrosial hours are a way to add sacred time to your day; time that is transparent to and not conflicting with your 'normal' schedule. These hours can be used for yoga, fitness, walking, reading, or doing extra chores. In ancient tradition, they are sacred and used for praise, meditation, or reflection prior to the beginning of the day. By adding these hours to our lives, we add special time, time that is sacred, time that is much-needed for our own personal growth and development. Typically, no one else will be crazy enough to wake at this time, so it is guaranteed Alone Time; time to get to know and nurture one's self, time to be spent effectively or frittered away, however one feels at the moment, for it is your time and yours alone. Cell phones do not ring at this hour, nor are e-mails exchanged (unless you have virtual or actual friends online elsewhere on the planet). No one is awake to intrude on your time, or to expect anything from you. Even without the sacred and spiritual components, this alone provides critical ballast and balance to hectic modern lives, where quiet time or time alone is rare and precious, or even non-existant.
Amrit Vela, the perfect preparation for the dawn. And any day that one can experience the dawn hours is a good day ... no a great one, no matter what happens later. A day started well will have positive momentum, to grow and expand as the day progresses, to spill over and into the lives of others, sharing the gift with even those who have slept in and missed their own ambrosial hours.
The ambrosial hours are a true gift we can give ourselves, moments that await only our presence. These hours will serve to ignite the entire 86,400 seconds of each day, put a shine in your eyes and a smile on your face. Experiencing the ambrosial hours are a gift to your Self that keeps on giving. I invite you to try experiencing yours.
AUM, Shanti, Shanti, Shantihiiii
"Right here, right now, there is no other place that I wanna be. Right here, right now; watching the world wake up from history."
-Jesus Jones (?)
"Here's to you, my love, with blessings from above and let the day begin."
-The Call
Complete lyrics to Let the Day Begin, by The Call
Here's to the babies in a brand new world
Here's to the beauty of the stars
Here's to the travellers on the open road
Here's to the dreamers in the bars
Here's to the teachers in the crowded rooms
Here's to the workers in the fields
Here's to the preachers of the sacred words
Here's to the drivers at the wheel
Here's to you my little loves with blessings from above
Now let the day begin
Here's to you my little loves with blessings from above
Now let the day begin, let the day begin
Here's to the winners of the human race
Here's to the losers in the game
Here's to the soldiers of the bitter war
Here's to the wall that bears their names
Here's to you my little loves with blessings from above
Now let the day begin
Here's to you my little loves with blessings from above
Let the day begin, let the day begin, let the day start
Here's to the doctors and their healing work
Here's to the loved ones in their care
Here's to the strangers on the streets tonight
Here's to the lonely everywhere
Here's to the wisdom from the mouths of babes
Here's to the lions in the cage
Here's to the struggles of the silent war
Here's to the closing of the age.
(key of D, if I remember correctly ... or at least that's how I used to play it)
In this balanced moment, as the star-spangled sky slowly fills with pre-dawn light, one can feel the shift; the past recedes into the present, as the new day unfurls, as night gives way to day. The dark bulk of the mountains is slowly painted with shape and form, clouds are accentuated with gentle and subtle eldritch light. I watch in awe as the Master Artist paints a new day, stroke by loving stroke, creating a new world with the growing light of Life.
This special time is when I sit in meditation, when I perform my kriyas and pujas (rituals and observances), when I perform my ablutions and prepare for my morning yoga class. Sometimes I sit in my Yin poses and read something inspirational. Sometimes I just stand there and gaze at the stars. I typically am accompanied by gentle Celtic flute and harp music, or crystal singing bowls (prayer bowls). Sometimes I just sit in silence and feel the life rush into my body, feel the hope dawn in synchronicity with the new day.
Now, when the ether is free of electronic detritus like cell phone signals and the endless radio waves we use to signify communications, my thoughts, prayers, and intentions float free and unobstructed. I send out gratitude and hope, intentions that the rest of the world experience the joy and peace I wish for my own loved ones. In the pre-dawn silence I hear only the whisper of the wind, the soft singing of the creek. The air unmarred by man-made sounds, I can almost hear the still, calm voice of God, of the AUM that underlies all other sounds, the sound of the universe turning and of grass growing; the sound of change.
Eventually, the spectre of time intrudes, and I gather my things for my morning pedal; pack with yoga clothes and gym clothes (for after yoga), an orange and a headlamp. Most of my stuff was prepared the night before, as my Mom taught me when I was young. This keeps me from having to rush around getting ready, frees my time for enjoyment of these rare and special moments. I relish them. Finally, I am ready and step out into the new day. The stars have faded in the east as the glowing colors spread, leaving only the bright dot of Venus and a crescent moon (or whatever astronomical configuration exists that day).
For a while, the only sound is that of my tires on the pavement and my softly sung Hare Ramas. The occasional car turns into a growing stream of cars, all the early birds rushing to wherever it is they go. The pastel marvel grows in the east, a gorgeous panoply of colors that would make Rembrandt or C.M. Russel's jaws drop in awe. Or perhaps it is a relatively colorless dawning, obscured by clouds or enhanced by the gentle fall of snowflakes. Either way, I ride gladly through the gathering day, feeling the life and gladness well up in my chest like a wave.
Finally I arrive, moments before or after the instructor for that morning's class does. It is six AM, and dawn is approaching. Exchanging a few quick greetings, I set up my yoga mat (trying to avoid staying in the same old place) and head into the locker room for one of my favorite morning rituals: the warm shower before yoga. I let the water wash over me like the rains of Shambala, cleaning away the past, the dirt of the world outside, purifying and preparing me for the best ritual of all. I may sing gently, or just enjoy the sensations of the water on my body, the growing energy and gratitude within. I am all alone here, in a place where no one dare enter. It is safe and special, and smells good.
My eagerness to get into the warm womb of the yoga room pulls me away from my rejuvenating waters. I make my way onto my mat, usually the only one in the room. Gathering in the last of the ambrosia, I release the last of the previous day's worries, cares, and toxins (or so I think). I gently begin to come into my body, occupying every cell and filling each with love and gratitude. I slowly work each limb, to the Rice Krispies crackle and pop of waking joints. As people begin to trickle into the room, I slowly finish my preparations and come to a gentle child's pose until I hear the instructor's voice greet us, signalling the beginning of our morning Vinyasa flow.
As we begin, the day is truly dawning and the last of the ambrosial hours fading. The night is already a distant memory, and we send each on their respective ways with a grateful AUM to unite our breaths and send our love out to the world. We are 'doing yoga' for all those who cannot, and we feel honored. We truly are the lucky ones, as we synchronize our energy in Sun Salutations, while the the sun slowly rises. Our spirits soar ands our bodies sweat, and eventually we lay there in corpse pose, having gone through a minature cycle of life; beginning in embryo pose, moving to child's pose, through the range of Vinyasa poses, and finally ending up in Savasana, the corpse pose.
We lie in our puddles of sweat, invigorated and relaxed, grateful and peaceful. Our bodies, minds, and spirits have been turned on, each part energized, harmonized, and synchronized. Each part has been invited into allegiance by the ancient and timeless sequence of movements that have been developed over the millenia, by generations of dedicated sages and yogis. We lie there not in a state of bliss, but as manifestations of bliss. We are well-tuned instruments, the hands of the Divine, content to rest now that we have re-established our identities as children of Divine Light. After a quick shower, we are on our separate ways, bringing our yoga off our mats and into the new day. It before eight AM, and the world has mostly woken up, or begun to.
On the weekends, my ambrosial hours differ slightly. I think I will sleep in ... and do; until at least five thirty or six. At this time of year, I am still in the edge of the transition: between the end of the ambrosial hours and the beginning of the dawning time. I perform my yoga alone outside, as the rest of the world sleeps in innocent weekend oblivion. I enjoy the emptiness of the house, perhaps cleaning up a bit and then maybe reading something inspirational before finally turning to the computer to type a few words before my grandson awakes for a Play Day.
These special ambrosial hours are a way to add sacred time to your day; time that is transparent to and not conflicting with your 'normal' schedule. These hours can be used for yoga, fitness, walking, reading, or doing extra chores. In ancient tradition, they are sacred and used for praise, meditation, or reflection prior to the beginning of the day. By adding these hours to our lives, we add special time, time that is sacred, time that is much-needed for our own personal growth and development. Typically, no one else will be crazy enough to wake at this time, so it is guaranteed Alone Time; time to get to know and nurture one's self, time to be spent effectively or frittered away, however one feels at the moment, for it is your time and yours alone. Cell phones do not ring at this hour, nor are e-mails exchanged (unless you have virtual or actual friends online elsewhere on the planet). No one is awake to intrude on your time, or to expect anything from you. Even without the sacred and spiritual components, this alone provides critical ballast and balance to hectic modern lives, where quiet time or time alone is rare and precious, or even non-existant.
Amrit Vela, the perfect preparation for the dawn. And any day that one can experience the dawn hours is a good day ... no a great one, no matter what happens later. A day started well will have positive momentum, to grow and expand as the day progresses, to spill over and into the lives of others, sharing the gift with even those who have slept in and missed their own ambrosial hours.
The ambrosial hours are a true gift we can give ourselves, moments that await only our presence. These hours will serve to ignite the entire 86,400 seconds of each day, put a shine in your eyes and a smile on your face. Experiencing the ambrosial hours are a gift to your Self that keeps on giving. I invite you to try experiencing yours.
AUM, Shanti, Shanti, Shantihiiii
"Right here, right now, there is no other place that I wanna be. Right here, right now; watching the world wake up from history."
-Jesus Jones (?)
"Here's to you, my love, with blessings from above and let the day begin."
-The Call
Complete lyrics to Let the Day Begin, by The Call
Here's to the babies in a brand new world
Here's to the beauty of the stars
Here's to the travellers on the open road
Here's to the dreamers in the bars
Here's to the teachers in the crowded rooms
Here's to the workers in the fields
Here's to the preachers of the sacred words
Here's to the drivers at the wheel
Here's to you my little loves with blessings from above
Now let the day begin
Here's to you my little loves with blessings from above
Now let the day begin, let the day begin
Here's to the winners of the human race
Here's to the losers in the game
Here's to the soldiers of the bitter war
Here's to the wall that bears their names
Here's to you my little loves with blessings from above
Now let the day begin
Here's to you my little loves with blessings from above
Let the day begin, let the day begin, let the day start
Here's to the doctors and their healing work
Here's to the loved ones in their care
Here's to the strangers on the streets tonight
Here's to the lonely everywhere
Here's to the wisdom from the mouths of babes
Here's to the lions in the cage
Here's to the struggles of the silent war
Here's to the closing of the age.
(key of D, if I remember correctly ... or at least that's how I used to play it)
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