It could be the first light of the sun creeping over the horizon or the last rays of light as the sun sets below the horizon. It’s impossible to know. I always wondered if there was any way to tell the difference between dawn and dusk and the answer turned out to be “no” — not really.
I have seen sunrises so brilliant that they came through the window and the room in which I lay seemed to be on fire … and I’ve seen the setting of the burning orb over a bay that set the entire sky alight — 365 degrees of solar magnificence.
And yet, for all that, my favorite times are the soft rising and setting of the sun. The glimmering. A quiet rising and a gentle departure. Soft blues, golds, and pinks — the beginning and end of an ordinary day.
There has been so much craziness in our world. A peaceful start and close to the sun’s passage seems a good choice.
I am trying to find some peace in a world that seems at war with itself and certainly at war with me. I cannot fix it. The best I can do is find a bubble of quiet and hope greater powers than mine grab hold of the world and tenderly bring it back.
This continent on which I live — the northern end of the “new” world — was and still is magnificent. We have great mountains and prairies and lakes the size of small oceans. Giant rivers where the salmon have run for centuries and if we allow it, will continue for centuries more.
I’m not much on prayer. I have no idea where prayers go or if anything or anyone hears them … but for those spirits who might be listening, I offer a humble hope to hold fast to this beautiful planet.
May our better selves emerge to save us from our own savagery.