Many moons ago, a woman kept a small fire going in a rock shelter high in the Davis Mountains, where dark nights chilled the spirit as well as the bones. At dawn, however, the sun would tiptoe across the pocket of rock to wake her, all the while whispering its own warmth across these massive volcanic rocks. And in those few, precious moments of sunbaked silence, the rocks remembered the fires that gave birth to the mountains and glowed as if filled with molten fire. As sunlight spread warmth, the woman would feel her spirit glowing with renewed life, with anticipation for the new day with its unknown fears and unexpected joys.

How many other spirits have been warmed by ancient fires that make this mountain glow at sunrise? I wake to this view. It doesn't last long, which makes it all the more precious.

Enter quietly. Stand in front of the shelter and look out across the high desert of Far West Texas. Sheltered by this mountain, warmed by those ancient fires, what mystery will this new day hold for you?