The Calm Before and In Between

This week, I reveled in my mornings. What's not to love? I get to have breakfast. I get to say good morning to Adam (my friend and the head security guard at my apartment) and practice my Darija and French skills. I get to listen to my music as I watch the sun rise over the Atlas Mountains while the bus makes its way to school. I never loved the December sunlight situation until I moved to Marrakech.

And this week, because of the later sunrise, I was able to see the last bits of the dawn over the mountains out my classroom windows. The snow-capped peaks have purplish tones in that early day light; the clouds (debab in Darija) are sometimes wreathed in fiery halos, and sometimes graced with the gentlest touch of sunlight. Judging by their chattering choruses, the birds seem as delighted as I am to be witnessing such displays of natural artistry every morning.

This is what greets me every morning.

Looking out my window at this scene slows me down every morning. I can breathe and enjoy the calm for a moment before the rush of the day begins. It makes me think of what a dear friend and babysitting mom told me years ago: "When you're hiking, you need to rest in that tiny space in between steps." (She got that from a guide who helped her hike Kilimanjaro. So cool. :) Rather than waiting for the weekend to arrive to rest, I've been finding moments like this one, in between steps, to recharge for a moment.

It's these moments of "calm before the storm" that I am learning to treasure. Don't misunderstand; I love the rush of teaching a high-energy class, or the rush of Marrakech's medina and its souks, but I also love the moments before each new step demands another burst of energy from me. It's a new delight to stand at the window in my classroom in the morning, drinking my tea and doing nothing for the moment. It's an affirmation to myself that I am human, that I cannot "do it all" if I only work hard enough, and that I deserve and need rest.

When I enjoy my view every morning, I'm getting reconnected to why we humans have developed seasonal rhythms and cycles to our weeks. I'm remembering why many of the world's religions have a day of rest, plus longer celebrations where no work is to be done at all. I'm mimicking the ground beneath my feet in its need to lie fallow seasonally so that it can continue to grow good food for us.

We all need times of rest, and thankfully are approaching a season where many of us can take some much-needed time to do so. But if you are approaching a period where you can't rest, where you have to climb the mountain, remember what my friend's guide told her: "Rest in between steps." Find your morning sunrise view, whatever time of day and in whatever form it may be.