The Insistent Sun

May 21, 2010

This morning I was awakened by the energy of the insistent sun. Most of the winter we have a sun that mopes into the morning sky, its eyes barely open. It shuffles through the morning, and peaks at noon with whatever energy it has mustered. Then it slides into the afternoon like a teenager going into his darkened room and shutting the door.

But then, it starts to change…

Tiny changes, longer days, and all at once, it seems, the sun is bounding into the room like a small child—waking me up, telling me it’s time to “come see!” The quality of that light is insistent. It pushes me out of bed to look out the window. All of those things I wasn’t noticing are suddenly surrounded by light, barely contained by the energy that holds them.

 The forsythia showing little bits of yellow, the iris blades cutting the unfrozen soil, the soil itself is starting to wriggle to life. I notice. I notice I notice… all the while being dragged from thing to thing by the insistent sun. Look at this! And this! And this! And suddenly I realize… it might just be joy I feel. That joy that is bathed in light and forward moving energy. That light illuminates both the good and the bad, and gives me hope for all that is possible.

A nice thing… the generative power of the insistent sun.

One Response to “The Insistent Sun”

  1. mattpaw said

    Well then there now, in Virginia the insistency has grown into a persistency that borders on pestilence – mid-90s, 80% humidity, when it’s not 100%. Sorta jungle-like. But I agree that Ol’ Ra in those first weeks of spring is more than welcome.

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