Vigils

The First Moments Before Dawn

igils is the first hour of the monastic day, when the monks rise in darkness to break the long silence of night with the sound of chant. This is the night watch at the gate between darkness and light, night and day, silence and sound. As our day emerges from darkness and slumber, we acknowledge that our lives also emerge out of a vast universe, visible to us in the night sky above. We are humbled, even at times fear-struck, by the sheer power and magnitude of nature. Yet, we realize that we are not separate from it; that our bodies are composed of many of the same elements as that distant star or towering mountain peak.

In the darkness and silence of night, we encounter our doubts and fears. If we face them openly; if we look and listen more deeply, we find the darkness also holds their counterparts: trust and confidence. We learn in time to hold contradictions: we are utterly eclipsed by the power and magnitude of nature, and yet we are completely at home within it. This deeper sense of being and belonging unflinchingly within the larger cloth of the universe is our natural state. It is what we often lose sight of when we get caught up in the struggles of daily life. And so, Vigils is the hour of setting an intention – through even a few minutes’ pause, reflection, or meditation: May I not get lost down the rabbit hole of the practical demands of this day; may I hold this larger perspective when the going gets tough. Indeed, a practice of the hours is an invitation to weave points of intersection throughout our day, where our more limitless, larger sense of being and perspective can break through the ruffled surface of our busy lives.

Vigils for me is intertwined with the morning routines of preparing my mind and body for the day: the dark hallway walk to the bathroom to wash my face and shave; the soft light that glows above the bathroom mirror. The sounds and movements that break the silence and stillness of my night are not Gregorian chant, but they are every bit as sacred when graced with my intention: the percolating coffee pot, the knife spreading butter across a piece of toast, the textural dance of the toothbrush across my teeth. As I rise from a brief period of meditation and make my way out the door, I remember that just as my life arises out of this vast universe, out of the night arises this new day. I cannot know if it might be my last; and so, may I remember what matters; may my words and actions be worthy of my truest intentions; may I hold this larger perspective throughout whatever this day presents.

Practice

• Build a moment of pause into your morning, before the day begins. Find a way to just be, before words, concepts, plans, or daily demands enter the picture.
• Keep electronic devices off or in airplane mode overnight until you have completed your morning practices.
• Feel the texture of this early hour of the day. Go outside if you can: Stand, feel your feet on the earth, look up at the sky, feel the temperature of the air, notice the quality of the light.
• Awaken into your body as your home – tune into your breath and move your awareness into each part of your body for a moment, just to see what is there today, like switching on a light in each room of your house.
  
• Bring attention into the simple activities of morning routines – practice being fully with them. Enjoy them.

Contemplate

• Where and when have you experienced a sense of being “at home” in nature and the universe?
• What textures or qualities of this hour of the day do you notice and feel? How does this hour lend itself to feeling connected to a larger universe and sensing a larger perspective?
• What practices or routines are (or might become) your practice of Vigils? How might they help you to begin your day connecting with a larger perspective?

Poem

What to Remember When Waking (Excerpt)
David Whyte

In the first
hardly noticed
moment
in which you wake,
coming back
to this life
from the other
more secret,
moveable
and frighteningly
honest 
world
where everything
began,
there is a small
opening
into the day
which closes
the moment
you begin
your plans.

What you can plan
is too small
for you to live.

What you can live
wholeheartedly
will make plans
enough
for the vitality
hidden in your sleep.

To become human
is to become visible
while carrying
what is hidden
as a gift to others.

To remember
the other world
in this world
is to live in your
true inheritance.

Create

Capture the texture and quality of experience you find in the first moments of the early morning. Use whatever medium of expression resonates with you: drawing, watercolor, photography, poetry, music. If you would like, share your work with info@art-of-being.org, to be compiled on this page at a later date.

Share

Share your own experiences, observations, or insights in the comment section below. Remember to follow these two guidelines:

1. Speak from your own lived experience.
2. Situate any outside references (religious, spiritual, literary, etc.) within your lived experience (i.e. what experience of your own made those ideas or words of others ring true in your life)