Beauty in repetition
So, I’m going to contradict myself. I’ve been going on and on about forging new paths and taking the road less traveled and facing away from the sun etcetera etcetera. But even on the days when being different is the flavor of the hour, I recognize and embrace the beauty that exists in the familiar and the routine. Take, for example, the sunrise. In the moments just before dawn the sky turns from black to dusky blue to pink to purple, the birds start their song and the world begins to come alive. On cloudy days the sun may be obscured but light still enters, making the way less murky. Yes, without fail, every day, the sun rises. I find a peace in this familiar and blessed routine, this simple yet amazing feat. For in every sunrise is the promise of a new opportunity to more forward into areas unexplored and yet do so not alone, never alone, but joined by this old familiar friend, the sun, as a consistent and reliable companion. When I am feeling like the journey is coated in shadow or that I am standing perched on the edge of a dark abyss, all I have to do is face east and wait. It may not always be bright, it may not always be direct, it will at times be sheltered by the clouds and blocked out by the rain, but it will, with unfailing predictability, rise and bring light to the day.
Before sunrise on my last morning in the mountains of Boone.
Once the sun rose fully, the shadows were banished and all the hills and valleys were revealed
planes leave their mark in the sky on their morning flight
another opportunity to turn and face away from the sun.