Invocation Shall I speak to you of nature? I shall, but first, I must invoke the Muse. Some mornings, the smell of a freshly crushed sassafras leaf is enough. Some mornings, I strike the singing bowl. The ethereal tone focuses my attention. Some mornings, I stretch in the motions of the Eight Brocade Qigong. Some mornings, I dance, but I am not Bal Shem Tov, the dancing Rabbi. Some mornings, I recite the beauty way song, but I am not Diné. Some mornings, I read a work by St. Francis of Assisi, "The Canticle of Brother Sun." Some mornings, I read a short poem of my own composition. On occasion, I have lit a sage wand and offered smoke to the four directions. The smell of sage smoke once prompted a neighbor to ask what I was smoking, I sometimes wave smoke to the four directions, and let the neighbors wonder. This may persuade you that I am running in circles with no specific direction. I remind you that these are merely ways of beginning the day, which is another way of saying "invoking the Muse."
A Review
I just reread Byrd Baylor’s lovely children’s book The Way to Start a Day. She speaks of sunrise rituals all over the world, from ancient China to Peru, and they are ways of celebrating the rising sun.