Nature Journal: Light
Sunday morning I woke up early to hike Squaw Peak and watch the sun rise. Well to be honest I didn’t intend for it to be a hike, but the rode was blocked and I was determined to see it. Before long the fascinating notion of light and its effects on us began to run through my mind. Here I was in the freezing cold and it was dark. I had my eleven year old brother who had spent the weekend with me, but besides that we were completely alone. Not too far up the path we found a carcass. Comforting. So here we were in the dark cold surrounded by death. The poor thing was some young fawn reduced to nothing more than a ribcage held fast to a spinal column by leathery sinews. It was an appropriate symbol of the elements we found ourselves in.
Leaving the fawn behind, we pressed onwards. The darkness gave way to morning and we could follow the reflective snow laid out nicely for our path up the mountain. But everything was dull here. There was no color in this world of night and everything was blurred. Maybe that’s why night can be such an apt metaphor for death. We fear it. To the faithless, death is nothing more than an end of perception where light cannot penetrate and all is obscured. And in the beginning of that nighttime excursion, I found myself wary. The snow near the carcass was littered with paw prints. They were those of coyotes, but the effect was still as chilling as if they had been the larger prints of wolves or mountain lions. What other creatures lurked in those shadows? I’ll probably never know.
But as we ascended the winding mountain, something remarkable began to happen. The dull, murky blurs of the world began to melt. Color, form, and texture were taking their place. Dark silhouettes of mountains were now full of life and character and their beauty was staggering. I live here - HERE. This emerging beauty is my backyard. How lucky is that? The warming skies were doing more than filling my eyes with detail and color though. They were filling my being with hope. There were no coyotes behind these trees. Frolicking squirrels and singing birds live here. The dead fawn stopped being a symbol of doom and became something I couldn’t wait to examine on the way back down the mountain.
And then it happened. The sky erupted into astonishing shades of light pink and baby blue. Night had finally given way. Golden rays of liquid sunshine flooded the valley below and everything woke up in its warmth. The sky was beautiful. The once dark clouds that seemed to be ominous signs of storms sure to come, were now nothing more than colorful wisps of cotton candy. Everything was bright and happy in the world. I wanted things to stay like that forever. But of course they never do. The delicate pink and infant blues of the newborn day gave way to the deeper blues of midday. The sunrise was over.
I wandered back down the mountain astonished at how far we had really climbed. In our rush to not miss it we had apparently sprinted up this thing. No wonder Mitch was tired. In the long journey down to the car I couldn’t help but appreciate the new scene before my eyes. I had seen it all before on the way up but it was so different now. It was real – living even. It had been nothing but silhouette and shade before. As I mused on the change and how this world had taken on life in the last hour of my experiencing it, I realized how the daily journeys of the sky are reminiscent of our own journeys through life.
The sun breaks over the horizon and showers the world in light blues and tender pinks – the very colors we bring infants home in. Everything is new and the world is mystery. It’s fabulous. Over time these blues deepen and the pink fades into nothing. The sky grows up. Things happen. Clouds come and go and the occasional storm darkens the place. But really it’s just a bunch of monotony and sometimes we don’t even notice it. It makes me wonder if there’s any pink left in my sunrise or if it’s over by now. But even in the adult sky’s uniformity there are still moments that take your breath away. Sometimes the sun hits you just right and you feel as if sunshine itself has infused with your soul. Clouds take on interesting shapes and become the stuff of dreams. Eventually though, the sun heads into the west, and we find ourselves at the sunsets of our lives. The blue deepens. It becomes regal even – a sort of deep navy full of experience. And then it happens. Rich golds and storied oranges streak across the sky before giving way to majestic reds and royal purples and finally the quiet tranquility of night. Night – where the sky gives way and we the heavens as they really are.
“Each day’s a gift and not a given right.” Let’s make the most of what we’ve got.
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