Tag Archives: dawn

Solstice Sunrise Series 2012

There is always a sunrise, even after the longest night. I am glad we made it through the darkness.

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Still

I don’t believe God lives in the clouds. I have, however, come to think that there is a hatch in my soul that is shut most of the time and the key to cracking it open is the sky. Strata of color at dawn, clouds ablaze with the light of a descending sun, sister moon rising majestically, fat rainclouds bumping shoulders and gaping just enough for glimpses of the richness and bright up above, falling stars and the bottomless black night with remote suns and galaxies and neighbor planets blazing: all of it can stop me dead in my tracks. When I am captured by the sky, I stop and see. I don’t just look, I see. For a pause, I am in the moment, and in that moment I meet God. In that moment, I am sane and all the screwed up ideas and guilt and pressure roosting in my brain fall away and there we are, God and I, admiring the sky and being.

Be Still and Know That I Am.

A Distant Sun

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It is November in Minnesota. The sun rises so late and so far to the south that at 7:15 a.m. I can’t even see it from my pillow. All summer the piercing, top-of-the-morning beams had dragged me from my bed to belatedly pull the blinds of my east-facing window. Today, with Saturday slothfulness, I watch the clouds’ golden tint blushing to pink as bare branches and my neighbors’ rooftops are revealed in the growing light. Clouds approach and steal the fire of the day, leaving me under many shades of gray. Tantalizing streaks of blue, gold and rose hint that full, brilliant daytime exists up there, beyond my reach. It is November in Minnesota; time to be thankful for glimpses caught.