Sunset/ Sunrise
I have to admit, in my life I've see more sunsets than sunrises! But I take a certain joy in both. It is wonderful, at a certain time of year, to be heading off to work out in the AM, and see the sun coming up over the mountains and spreading its golden light over the valley... Even the "city" I live in looks good with the sun at its back!
Recently, when I was up in Lone Pine and poised to ascend Mt Whitney, we were up before dawn, and thus saw the sun reluctantly peek over the mountains. The shadows in the Owens Valley, the colors on this side vs the shadows on the other, all made for a unique (to me) sunrise. "Here comes the sun," the Beatles sang, but it was more as if we climbed one mountain in order to see the sun rise over the others.
Once I was driving home from my daughter's up in Carmel Valley. I'd left before dawn, and so saw the sun light the Grade long before its rays hit the valley. Even then, as I drove along 101, it seemed the sun was reluctant to rise. It sent fog and clouds and all sorts of obfuscations just to distract and deceive me as I looked left for its eventual appearance. When it finally did "pop" over the ridge-line, the day was already upon us. Its heralds and messengers had already scattered; its appearance was almost anti-climactic.
But as I said, dawns are not my "thing," sunsets are. Long ago, on the shores of Lake Kitchegoomee(?), er, Wallenpaupak (we were in PA, afterall, not WI), I would sit with my parents (principally my mother; sunsets back East tried my father's patience, they took so long! He'd do better out here, where the sun virtually NEVER "sinks slowly in the West!") and watch and wait for the sun not only to sink behind the horizon (often elevated by trees and what we were accustomed to thinking of as "mountatins"), and then spread it array of colors out across sky and clouds, painting a fitting end to whatever sort of day we'd had. A pause to give thanks it was. A time for breathing, between day and the coming night.
As I write this I am sitting on my front porch. The front porch is for Fall and Winter sunsets, the back for Spring and Summer ones. There is always this melancholy about front porch sunsets. The days are shortening, and the sun moving slowly but reliably south, like the pelicans, seeking refuge in some unknown rookery for the night. From where I live, one can actually perceive the turn, from South to heading North, then reaching the apex, turning back again. A cycle, repeated: the Eternal Return, from which the Ancients received such reassurance, and learned to regulate the cycles of their own lives.
Something happened to Western perceptions with the Enlightenment and the Industrial Revolution. We began to think that life ought to be lived linearly-- onward, and hopefully upward, always! The downs were to be brief aberrations of the ups! If we are climbing Jacob's ladder, then every rung is to go higher, higher.
That may work for some. But for me, especially at this time in my life, there is definitely a feeling of the "sun" setting on what was. And it is very unclear that my "rungs" to come will go "higher, higher." Who knows?
Instead, I take what reassurance I can from this experience: yes, as surely as the night follows the day, so does another day follow that night. Every sunset hold promise of a sunrise-- even if the nights are getting longer these days!
I used to revel in the sunsets for the pauses they offered to stop and give thanks for the day, and all of the gifts that each day brought. These days, the "gifts" are fewer in number, at least as I can tell. So now my emphasis has shifted. I watch the sun go down, I give thanks, but I also pray for the promise of another day, and passage through this night until dawn comes.
I am confident that, although the sun has set on my life that was, and I am living in the certain darkness that always follows, there will be a dawning, and I will be shown the way to go into what God has Promised me is to come.
Wherever you are in the "diurnal" cycle of your life, may the rhythm of your days provide you with reassurance about the rhythm of your years. God is with you, and with me, always, be it day or night, sunset or sunrise.
Blessings!
Recently, when I was up in Lone Pine and poised to ascend Mt Whitney, we were up before dawn, and thus saw the sun reluctantly peek over the mountains. The shadows in the Owens Valley, the colors on this side vs the shadows on the other, all made for a unique (to me) sunrise. "Here comes the sun," the Beatles sang, but it was more as if we climbed one mountain in order to see the sun rise over the others.
Once I was driving home from my daughter's up in Carmel Valley. I'd left before dawn, and so saw the sun light the Grade long before its rays hit the valley. Even then, as I drove along 101, it seemed the sun was reluctant to rise. It sent fog and clouds and all sorts of obfuscations just to distract and deceive me as I looked left for its eventual appearance. When it finally did "pop" over the ridge-line, the day was already upon us. Its heralds and messengers had already scattered; its appearance was almost anti-climactic.
But as I said, dawns are not my "thing," sunsets are. Long ago, on the shores of Lake Kitchegoomee(?), er, Wallenpaupak (we were in PA, afterall, not WI), I would sit with my parents (principally my mother; sunsets back East tried my father's patience, they took so long! He'd do better out here, where the sun virtually NEVER "sinks slowly in the West!") and watch and wait for the sun not only to sink behind the horizon (often elevated by trees and what we were accustomed to thinking of as "mountatins"), and then spread it array of colors out across sky and clouds, painting a fitting end to whatever sort of day we'd had. A pause to give thanks it was. A time for breathing, between day and the coming night.
As I write this I am sitting on my front porch. The front porch is for Fall and Winter sunsets, the back for Spring and Summer ones. There is always this melancholy about front porch sunsets. The days are shortening, and the sun moving slowly but reliably south, like the pelicans, seeking refuge in some unknown rookery for the night. From where I live, one can actually perceive the turn, from South to heading North, then reaching the apex, turning back again. A cycle, repeated: the Eternal Return, from which the Ancients received such reassurance, and learned to regulate the cycles of their own lives.
Something happened to Western perceptions with the Enlightenment and the Industrial Revolution. We began to think that life ought to be lived linearly-- onward, and hopefully upward, always! The downs were to be brief aberrations of the ups! If we are climbing Jacob's ladder, then every rung is to go higher, higher.
That may work for some. But for me, especially at this time in my life, there is definitely a feeling of the "sun" setting on what was. And it is very unclear that my "rungs" to come will go "higher, higher." Who knows?
Instead, I take what reassurance I can from this experience: yes, as surely as the night follows the day, so does another day follow that night. Every sunset hold promise of a sunrise-- even if the nights are getting longer these days!
I used to revel in the sunsets for the pauses they offered to stop and give thanks for the day, and all of the gifts that each day brought. These days, the "gifts" are fewer in number, at least as I can tell. So now my emphasis has shifted. I watch the sun go down, I give thanks, but I also pray for the promise of another day, and passage through this night until dawn comes.
I am confident that, although the sun has set on my life that was, and I am living in the certain darkness that always follows, there will be a dawning, and I will be shown the way to go into what God has Promised me is to come.
Wherever you are in the "diurnal" cycle of your life, may the rhythm of your days provide you with reassurance about the rhythm of your years. God is with you, and with me, always, be it day or night, sunset or sunrise.
Blessings!
posted by TRXTR | 5:55 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home