I have to preface my sunrise scribbles with some background info.
For 22 days, I have watched the sun rise. For the first two days, I went outside of my house at the exact time it was supposed to rise according to my little weather app. I took a picture of the sky lightening. Then I went back inside the house and it was business as usual.
My good friend Falon created this challenge on Instagram: #salutethesun21
And since I was in the midst of my mayBE project and getting up at 4am each day anyway, I thought I would join. It wasn’t a big deal. I could step outside my home to take a pic of the sky and run back inside.
But on Day 3, I met Falon at the beach. As I drove, I turned on the radio. Gospel music. Of course. Words like rise, blessed, and thanks rang through my van. The challenge took another turn from that point on. We watched the sun rise over the water, sat in silence for a bit, closed our eyes and felt the sun’s first rays touch our face, and walked down the beach.
After that taste of heaven, how could I not watch the sun rise over our lovely lake?
Day 13: watching the sky lighten on a plane over the Atlantic, crossing time zones; Day 14-15: watching the sky lighten past the mountain outside of the house we stayed in the small town of Sitges, just outside Barcelona; Day 16: glimpsing the sun rise over the French countryside while in the driver’s seat…
Day 17: back in Sitges; Day 18-20: finding a spot at the local beach to watch the sunrises for the remainder of the trip because I missed seeing the sun rise above water…
I miscounted and thought my 21 days ended in Europe…but here is Day 21 back at home at our beach. I spent most of my sunrises with my husband, our time together before the day got going. But I also spent a morning with friends and a few days by myself.
But then Ever-Paitent nudged me out the door today.
And here is today’s sunrise:
Did you hear that deep exhale? Looks like this is part of my new morning ritual.
Morning pages. Gospel music-filled drive. Sunrise with Ever-Patient. Meditation at the beach. Scribble.
Then planning my day can begin.
A sunrise is a second chance and permission to start over. For me, it has become a visual cue for a do-over. All the apologies for yesterday’s misgivings flood forth. Despair magically turns into hope.
As I wait for the sun to crest, I don’t know what to expect. If there are clouds, will I even see it? Will I see a glimpse of that light? This waiting with anticipation as the sky changes colour is the best part of it all.
The gospel music found on a favourite radio station plays as a warm-up, a reminder that no matter what today brings, I am grateful; even if I get to the beach and the sun is obscured. Even if it’s raining, the act of witnessing this event and showing up is enough. Some mornings I leave the house not expecting to see anything but grey clouds. But then I get to the beach and there is a break in the darkness. A space. And there it is. But no matter what I see, I have faith knowing that it is still there.
The sky lightens. The day begins. The time passes.
The sun always rises even if it’s only my heart that sees it.
But I need the darkness too because this what makes the sunrise so sweet. This daily arrival is a reassurance, a cheering squad, a dependable friend. Yes you make messes and regret making them but guess what? Here’s another day to try again.
If you can do this at least once in the next 100 days, do it. Drive to a body of water and watch a sunrise. Arrange for babysitting. Bring the kids. Take the time. Take it. None of my pictures represent the colours and the holiness of the event. Every sky is original and new. Each day begins differently.
But it always starts with a choice and a little bit of faith.
100 scribbles can be a way to writing your here and now. When is the last time you saw a sunrise? How do you start your day? How do you think your day would change watching a sunrise at the start of it every day?
If you want to play along, link up in the comments or Instagram it with #100scribbles.