"Sunrise at Coon Lake" (Text & Image Copyright wylddane Productions, LLC)
"In beauty may I walk. All day long may I walk. Through the returning seasons may I walk."
~Traditional Navajo Blessing
The summer sunrise over Coon Lake is a quiet miracle.
Although the wee cottage is only a block away, the lake remains mostly hidden behind the trees during the lush months of summer. In winter, when the branches stand bare, I can glimpse the water from my windows. But this morning, as I look upon this image of the lake bathed in the first light of dawn, I am reminded that some things do not need to be seen every day to be deeply present in our lives.
Yesterday was a day of grief.
The loss of a dear friend settled over me like a gentle rain. There was no timetable for it, no expectation that sorrow should arrive neatly or depart on command. Grief travels at its own speed. It asks nothing of us except honesty. Yesterday, I honored that journey.
This morning feels different.
Not because my friend is forgotten—far from it—but because a new day has quietly arrived.
The Ojibwe people have long regarded sunrise as sacred. They greet Giizis, Grandfather Sun, with gratitude, recognizing each dawn as a doorway into wisdom, healing, and new beginnings. The first light is not simply another morning; it is an invitation to begin again, to walk forward in a good way, carrying yesterday's lessons without allowing them to become today's burden.
There is a beautiful legend that tells of Asibikaashi, the Spider Woman, whose delicate webs catch the first rays of the morning sun. Those shimmering threads become places of peace and protection, gathering the light before it reaches the world. I find comfort in that image. Perhaps every sunrise first passes through unseen hands of grace before it touches our own hearts.
This morning I do not participate in an ancient sunrise ceremony, nor do I offer tobacco to the Four Directions. My ritual is simpler, though no less sincere.
I raise my freshly filled mug of coffee.
The aroma curls upward like a small offering of gratitude. Piano music drifts softly through the wee cottage. The warm pool of light upon my desk pushes back the lingering shadows of night. Outside, birds have begun their morning conversations, and somewhere beyond the trees Coon Lake welcomes another day beneath the rising sun.
This, too, is prayer.
This, too, is gratitude.
Perhaps every dawn is like turning the first page of a blank journal. Yesterday's words remain written. They are part of our story and always will be. But today's page waits patiently, inviting us to write something new—not by forgetting what came before, but by allowing love, hope, and memory to continue shaping who we are becoming.
My friend is gone.
The love remains.
The memories remain.
And so does this beautiful morning.
May we all greet this day with grateful hearts. May we remember those who have blessed our lives. May we have the courage to walk gently through whatever joys or sorrows await us. And may the light of this new sunrise remind us that every day, no matter what yesterday held, is another chance to live with kindness, gratitude, and peace.
I lift my coffee mug toward the morning.
It is my simple salute to the sunrise.
And somehow...that feels enough.
~Wylddane
~Traditional Navajo Blessing
The summer sunrise over Coon Lake is a quiet miracle.
Although the wee cottage is only a block away, the lake remains mostly hidden behind the trees during the lush months of summer. In winter, when the branches stand bare, I can glimpse the water from my windows. But this morning, as I look upon this image of the lake bathed in the first light of dawn, I am reminded that some things do not need to be seen every day to be deeply present in our lives.
Yesterday was a day of grief.
The loss of a dear friend settled over me like a gentle rain. There was no timetable for it, no expectation that sorrow should arrive neatly or depart on command. Grief travels at its own speed. It asks nothing of us except honesty. Yesterday, I honored that journey.
This morning feels different.
Not because my friend is forgotten—far from it—but because a new day has quietly arrived.
The Ojibwe people have long regarded sunrise as sacred. They greet Giizis, Grandfather Sun, with gratitude, recognizing each dawn as a doorway into wisdom, healing, and new beginnings. The first light is not simply another morning; it is an invitation to begin again, to walk forward in a good way, carrying yesterday's lessons without allowing them to become today's burden.
There is a beautiful legend that tells of Asibikaashi, the Spider Woman, whose delicate webs catch the first rays of the morning sun. Those shimmering threads become places of peace and protection, gathering the light before it reaches the world. I find comfort in that image. Perhaps every sunrise first passes through unseen hands of grace before it touches our own hearts.
This morning I do not participate in an ancient sunrise ceremony, nor do I offer tobacco to the Four Directions. My ritual is simpler, though no less sincere.
I raise my freshly filled mug of coffee.
The aroma curls upward like a small offering of gratitude. Piano music drifts softly through the wee cottage. The warm pool of light upon my desk pushes back the lingering shadows of night. Outside, birds have begun their morning conversations, and somewhere beyond the trees Coon Lake welcomes another day beneath the rising sun.
This, too, is prayer.
This, too, is gratitude.
Perhaps every dawn is like turning the first page of a blank journal. Yesterday's words remain written. They are part of our story and always will be. But today's page waits patiently, inviting us to write something new—not by forgetting what came before, but by allowing love, hope, and memory to continue shaping who we are becoming.
My friend is gone.
The love remains.
The memories remain.
And so does this beautiful morning.
May we all greet this day with grateful hearts. May we remember those who have blessed our lives. May we have the courage to walk gently through whatever joys or sorrows await us. And may the light of this new sunrise remind us that every day, no matter what yesterday held, is another chance to live with kindness, gratitude, and peace.
I lift my coffee mug toward the morning.
It is my simple salute to the sunrise.
And somehow...that feels enough.
~Wylddane
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