The Sun Rises Every Day Even Though I May Not See It
And that doesn’t bother me
Our cottage perches on the southern slopes of a mountain and this denies me the pleasure of watching a sunrise or a sunset.
The rough terrain of bushveld, thorn trees, snakes, dolomite rocks and mountains offers no opportunity to travel on foot or by car (which I don’t have). But I can savor the approaching sunrise indirectly.
The first sign of a new dawn is the avian chorus greeting its arrival.
Then the sky turns blue as the sun, like a dimmer switch, slowly rotates to full power and casts its glow across the valley below. Pink hues illuminate the distant mountains — provided there’s no camouflage of cloud or mist to hide this wondrous spectacle.
Yesterday morning was mystical.
We’d endured three days of unseasonal autumn thunderstorms accompanied by heavy downpours and hail. This time of year used to be warm and dry here on the highveld, but the summer rains forgot their role and lingered longer than welcome. (I put that down to climate change.)
I wish I’d had a camera to capture the morning mist across the valley.
The unseen sun rose in the east while the mist descended further and reduced visibility to around twenty meters, with only one shadowy tree next to the main house below our kitchen as a point of reference.
Though I couldn’t see the sun, I knew it was there, climbing higher above the horizon. The water-soaked ground and valley created the perfect mix for this natural phenomenon. This mystical magic lasted for three hours until the sun’s warmth evaporated the water droplets to appear against a backdrop of soft blue sky.
Even on gray days, the sun always rises!
“The sunrise is God’s greeting to each of us.” ― Henry David Thoreau
The weather is cloud-free today, so I’m aware of the sunrise as I do my morning Surya Namaskar — sun salutation — facing east with the French doors open. Shafts of light break through the foliage of trees, creating stripes of brightness on my yoga mat. Although I cannot see the sun, the simple asanas settle my mind and body, ready for the twenty-minute meditation that follows.
During my dark days, now long past, of depression and anxiety, what kept me going was knowing the sun always rises again — another chance to heal and grow. People have let me down, but not the sun.
“No sun outlasts its sunset, but will rise again and bring the dawn.” — Maya Angelou.
I have witnessed many a sunrise in my life — either in the mountains or down at the coast — so it doesn’t bother me I can’t see them now. I can close my eyes, dig into my memory, and conjure up those images again.
I shall leave you to watch the Sunrise with Coldplay in Jordan:
Thank you for being here.
This is my response to the first week of May’s Reciprocal Nature prompt. Thanks Sahil Patel for the prod!
I’ve been absent from writing this month, giving my brain a rest. The snarky weather, power blackouts, internet interruptions, and hubby’s health issues combined to overwhelm me. I needed a break to recalibrate.
I’m catching up on reading and these inspiring stories about sunsets caught my attention today:
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