This morning it struck me how like to birth the morning is. Perhaps that is why people are so friendly in the morning - the night has washed away a layer of memory, early dew has perhaps washed away a layer of grime. The day is young, unformed, full of promise, waiting to be shaped.
A corallary to the simile is that the evening is like to death. I feel a reluctance to draw this parallel because death has some very negative associations with evil in this culture. But honesty compels me to do so; and perhaps some of the positive aspects of death can be explored. "Cessation" is not, in and of itself, a bad thing. Consider the cessation of pain, or the disappation of a toxic spill.
Indeed, one could say that the little oblivion that the night and sleep provide is the basis of early morning joy. "Ignorance is bliss" is often said ironically, but there is a hint of truth to it. A good rest gives a particular kind of wholesome "ignorance" - the ability to ignore our desires and fears to see the past for what it is, a useful store of information which is static and passive.
To claim that the morning is better than the evening seems silly when you understand their interdependancy. What does this imply about birth and death?
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