Sunrise

Don’t miss it.

Monday it was cloudy and almost dark when I arose. It’s summertime, so it’s basically light outside the whole time I’m awake. It was odd to wake in June to a dark world. As I got outside during my normal activities, the sky turned the color of knockout roses. The wind got up, the color intensified, and after a few minutes, it was gone. I was left with just another gray, cloudy day.

The sunrise is like that sometimes. It makes a big fuss about nothing. You think that it’s just going to keep getting brighter and louder and more majestic, but the rays of the sun reach a certain angle and direct themselves above the clouds. It grows lighter, but gray, blue, and cool rather than red, orange, and hot. 

Wednesday it was different. The sky was partly cloudy and it was already pretty light outside when I rolled out of bed. As I went about my morning, I saw the wisps of cloud turning slightly pink, golden, and deep peach. They looked like a flower bed, all riotous in early spring. The sky is this piercing, crystalline blue at that time of day. It was all fresh and new. This time, the sun did get up over the mountains, increase in brightness, and bless us with her orange radiance.

The sunrise is like that sometimes. It comes slowly, almost unassuming. Before you know it, a new day has dawned and you’re going to get sunburnt if you don’t watch out. You think it will be just like all the others, but it won’t be. Even though it is basic, it’s unique and special. There will never be another day like this and, thus, never another sunrise quite like this one.

I think the best sunrises happen in the Winter. I’m sure it has something to do with the tilt of the earth and the angle of the rays of the sun. It also has to do with the clouds- there’s less clouds in the summer mornings and clouds afford the best opportunity for deep reds and pinks all across the sky, not just at the horizon. I also like Winter sunrises because I’ve usually been up for an hour or so before they get going and I can be more attentive, rather than drowsy. I can watch Venus slowly disappear with the broadening of the day. It’s stiller, quieter, and there’s less chores because the animals are all asleep and I can’t grow anything.

Winter sunrises are my favorite.

If you know me at all, you know that I love the slower seasons. Life is so busy and fast that I welcome the slower seasons as an opportunity to lean into the rhythm I suspect I was made for. Watching the sunrise helps me sink into that rhythm, even in a busy season.

It also reminds me that light always follows and conquers the dark. No matter how dark the night is, the sun will rise and bring us light. Even if the light is gray, filtered, or not that spectacular, you always know when the sun is traveling across the sky.

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I got a new tattoo this year. 

For a long time, I’ve loved The Lord of the Rings, but it was only in recent years that I got really into all things Tolkien and Tolkien scholarship. I’ve spent hours doing chores and listening to a podcast all about the writings and myths surrounding Middle Earth. I’ve bought and read super nerdy books and discovered other literature that I don’t think I would have ever heard of otherwise. I also found a new favorite story in the Middle Earth Lore.

In case you didn’t know, there’s a book about the first age of the world that Middle Earth is a part of. It’s called The Silmarillion. Tolkien originally wanted it published alongside The Lord of the Rings, but that didn’t happen. Anyway, in this book, there’s a story about a really awful battle that the Elves and Men expected to win, but their enemy was stronger, more crafty, and sneakier than they had anticipated. At the very end of it, one of the men, Húrin, tells his ally, Turgon the elf, to take his forces and flee to their hidden city. The elves listen to him and leave the battle. Then, at the last, with all his friends and family slain about him, Húrin takes an orc ax and uses both hands to wield it. He swings the ax seventy times, cutting off orc arms, legs, heads, and anything else in range. And, this is the best part, every time he swings, he says, “Aurë Entuluva!” In English that means, “Day shall come again!”

Now, Húrin has no reason for this kind of hope. His brother was just killed next to him and he sent his allies fleeing through the woods. The cause he’s fighting for has been driven into hiding and he knows that he is only swinging his ax as long as his arms hold out- this is his death cry. (Side note: Húrin doesn’t actually die here and his story only, if this were possible, gets more tragic, but I’m focusing on his perspective alone for a moment.) With what he thinks are his final breaths, Húrin defies the hopeless darkness by shouting that the day will surely come again. He speaks what he knows to be true in his heart, even though it isn’t true in his present circumstances and experience.

So, I got “Aurë Entuluva” in the original Quenya tattooed on my arm. I need to be reminded that no matter what my circumstances are telling me, there’s hope and life and beauty beyond what my eyes can see. 

I think that’s true about you too.

No matter the darkness you’re living in, no matter how long the night, there’s a sunrise just waiting to happen. There’s a day waiting to come again.

Do you believe it? 

Do you want to?

Welcome to the Day and Light.