One of the more positive aspects of aging is that, over the past several years, I have found myself becoming more and more of a morning person. This has afforded me the opportunity to witness far more sunrises than I did in my earlier days of late nights and later mornings. There is a certain peace that comes from watching a sunrise. The unerring rise and fall of the sun offers a sort of cold reassurance that, despite all of the chaos that surrounds us, there is a steady hum and flow to the universe. A hum and flow that cares little to none for our madness.
This has been a mad year. It’s been a mad several years, but 2020 has been a particularly difficult time for many, and there is a dark winter ahead. We have lost much and more still may be lost.
I do think that the arc of our history turns toward the light, though. There are moments where it may be hard to see, but sometimes there are glimpses—streaks of a rising sun in a darkened sky. I saw that light in Saturday’s impromptu celebrations, in the hard work of experts who are struggling to keep us safe and healthy even as many seek to destroy themselves on the vainglorious and twisted altar of a “liberty” which offers neither freedom nor life, and in the ongoing work of people who have made it their life’s work to help others.
I am not sure where this is all going, and I am sure there will be pain and darkness ahead. I am just as sure that there will be joy, and laughter, and good people who know the work is not done. Take care of yourselves. It is far too easy to let the madness drain us and exhaust us. Stay strong. Stay safe.
Know that you are not alone and take a moment to watch the sun rise.