Ah, Friday! Beautiful, beautiful Friday!

Friday here is the Holy Day, and like Sundays back home, the quiet mornings stretch out on the horizon offering a new, pristine canvas for me to design as I choose.

blank journal pages

I spend my Thursday evenings in a kind of zombie state to allow the fatigue of the week to drain from my whole self. Thursday afternoons and evenings are the winter season of my week; they are for death: death of noise, death of confrontations, death of worries, death of thought.  As the shower pours over my weary figure and I wash the dust of the desert from my body, I also rinse the week’s conflicts and confusion away from my mind.

I bow my head and beg for both forgiveness and rebirth.

My soul begins to peek out from its protective corners, then it retreats again, calling my mind to settle into its silence. Yes. Silence like an Indiana cornfield in the late night after a heavy snowfall. Silence that makes you stop, notice, listen, and then heave a long, alluring sigh.

snow open space

Thursday evenings are for solitary time; putz around the apartment, do laundry, maybe read a book for a while. On Thursday evenings I am void of creative energy, blank in my head and hollow in my whole being. Sometimes I emerge from the shower and go straight to bed and stay there as the hours fall away from the day and I finally slip into slumber. Whatever I do, Thursday’s downtime is always a prelude to a beautiful Friday!

Every Thursday night I have faith in the arrival of Friday morning; I honor that promise.


Promise delivers; every Friday morning Sun welcomes me to the new day with gentle patience. She slips in through the window unnoticed and mists me with diamond dust; she lingers until I begin to stir. Like a lover’s gentle coaxing, she kisses my eyelids and warms the side of my neck. And then I hear the whispers, “Hi Baby. Let’s get up.”


Upon recognition, I spring from my bed and ride the waves of new inspiration that spill from my mind.

Ah, Friday! Beautiful, beautiful Friday!

First I write; then I shower. Then my driver arrives and we pack ice and water and fruit for our journey. Sometimes we have a plan, but usually not. We set out to see what Friday will offer this time. Quiet roads, lazy hours ahead, freedom to stop any time and every time we want.

me mt. winds

Ah, Friday!


beautiful Friday!



We wind through the hard, rugged mountain range; we cruise along the coast. The desert opens like a curtain, tail sweeping the earth, and we comment on her beautiful colors: beige, brown, muted oranges and shimmering golds.

Ah, Friday! Beautiful, beautiful Friday!

I recognize the importance of my solitude and the necessity to cleanse and empty my being, as that is the ritual that prepares for the sanctity of the Holy Day. Emptiness is not to be feared, but rather to be revered; emptiness is the only way to be filled anew with the Divine that awaits my time.

Holy Days are known by many names, but the what’s in a name, right? The name is irrelevant. What matters is the gift; what matters is that we recognize and receive the gift. We all have a Holy Day; every week we all get one. Here’s it’s Friday.

Hello Friday! I welcome you with praise and thanksgiving! Fill me today with the offering that has been consecrated just for me!

Ah, Friday! Beautiful, beautiful Friday!

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