Spring Equinox

A new day hovers over the horizon against a spectrum of blue. The sky gives the impression of an undisturbed body of water. Still and reflective. A layer of purple clouds stretch life taffy across the sky and suddenly the yellow hue on the horizon melts into a brilliant coral. Left on the edge of my seat, I peer through the kitchen window waiting for more to be revealed. There’s no skipping ahead, no scrolling past.

Then all at once, the clouds are dressed in their familiar cotton candy ensemble. A relatively clear morning has given me my own private viewing of such stunning colors, which is not always a sure thing on a Maine morning in March. I wonder who else in town is witnessing these very same wonders. I consider myself fortunate for catching the moment. One where there’s no replay or recording sent. You had to be there. And with my phone out of reach, I’m unable to capture this scene beyond my memory and the feelings it evokes.

And then something I’ve never seen before – the sky above the horizon is fuchsia with a solitary hot pink beam of light starting low in the sky and shooting up to the heavens connecting Earth and Sky. An ethereal portal, some Divine presence, an elevator to infinity maybe. I can’t believe my luck to be here now. The sky seems to smooth out the clouds as it takes on a new dazzling orange shade, a signal that the star is about to take the stage. Deliberately and gracefully it rises over the distant tree-line, so illuminous, a metallic orange crush of color. A brief pattering of freezing rain against the window surprises me and seems an odd pairing to the show that’s taking place.The sky to the south appears gray until the darker clouds begin to drift eastward to reveal a light blue sky with Monet-like puffs of white above. And I watch as the great orange orb disappears behind a wall of deep purple.

I think I love sunrise the most because it fills the sky with hope and gives the impression that anything is possible. It colors the mood of the day. It holds power and influence, especially in its absence. It reminds me I’ve been gifted with another day, another chance to experience this place.

I think and talk a lot about this because I wasn’t spared the truth that terrible things can happen to good people, my illusion of immortality shattered on the earlier side. I was left with the harsh reality that not only people we love, but people we need leave us. Nothing seemingly tethering them to you but love and memories. They pass on, and you remain. So for these reasons, I’ve never been a critic of the mundane rhythms of life because I see them differently. I’m paying attention, and there’s a lot of remarkable to be found in monotony. I no longer spend a great deal of time in environments that aren’t right for me, that deplete or steal something away from me. Our inner compass loyally orients us toward a better way, toward fulfilment if we choose to follow.

I imagine that if I were to willfully stay in consuming situations that devour my energy, the mundane might feel intolerable, not stimulating enough, or small enough to miss. But here, it’s welcome because I seek to find the magic in the misrepresented mundane. These magic moments are the commas in the run-on sentence of life. It’s through this noticing and this gratitude for the everyday that we are able to fill the deep well of our resilience. When I notice the beauty around me and within me, I can create with it. We can connect to others because of it, and we can put beauty into the world that we all wish to see and know. One small step at a time. One exquisite sunrise at a time.

What is something you’ve seen your entire life that you began to pay closer attention to and cultivated more reverence for? If you haven’t yet, what might you begin to look at more intently?

*blog post uses stock image sunrise!