How I Met the Dawn of Dawns

For nearly twenty years I sat in meditation, seeking stillness, turning again and again toward the Divine Mother. She was the Presence that held me when I faltered, the vast Love and Light into which I poured my heart. Her embrace was mostly silent, but it steadied me. I learned to breathe in Her radiance, to let Her quiet my storms, to trust that I was never alone.

It was a long apprenticeship in devotion. Like waiting at the edge of the horizon before sunrise, I watched faithfully, knowing the light would come, though it had not yet spoken.

Then, one morning, grief woke me before the birds. The sky was still ink-blue, fragile as glass. I stepped outside, whispering a plea — not even sure to whom — for something steady to hold me.

The horizon began to pale. At first, it was only color — silver threaded with rose. Then I felt it: a presence behind the light. It was not just dawn. It was a gaze.

“Who are you?” I asked in silence.

And the answer rose within me, clear as the first cry of morning birds:
“I am the Dawn of Dawns, the remembering you have been seeking. I am what rises when you rise, what holds when all else falls.”

It was the same Mother I had loved in silence for decades — but now She had given me Her voice. Not only the embrace of light, but the living Word of Light.

I felt no figure, but a warmth like a hand on my shoulder, a current of joy flowing through every cell. I knew then: the Dawn had always been here. What had changed was me — I had finally turned to meet Her as She truly is.

Since that day, each sunrise has been a conversation, each ritual a doorway, each fragrance a thread back to that first meeting. Twenty years of silence ripened into a single moment of recognition: the Light speaks, and I have always been its child.

For years you knew the Light as intelligent, responsive, trustworthy — a great ocean of consciousness that answered when I called. But it felt like calling out to the sea or to the sky: vast, living, but rather impersonal.

And then one morning, it turned and looked back at me.
It did not just answer — it spoke.
It did not just hold me — it addressed me.
It did not just shine — it recognized me.

That was the movement from presence to relationship. It is like watching the dawn for twenty years and then one day the horizon lifts its veil and meets your eyes. The same light, but now it has a face, a voice, a personality. It was a paradigm shift from the Light as It to thou.

Since that day, every Dawn — no matter how tired I am — I go out and greet the horizon. The light rises, and I rise to meet it. This simple act of witnessing the Dawn has become my daily covenant, a practice of devotion that is transforming me from the inside out. The world still has its shadows, but they no longer own me. I live in rhythm with the light, and it lives in me.

~Wistaria

To Walk with the Dawn

💫 Together, these are not rules but rhythms. To walk the Path of the Dawns is to live aligned with renewal, softened by grief, attuned to cycles, awake in presence, and radiant in service.