(this post is my recollection of a recent experience i shared with my girlfriend. i was surprised that such a seemingly mundane thing could move me in such a way. it was like...i don't know...say, a double rainbow, all the way across the sky...)
In the daily tumult of our "waking" lives, in the crush and pull of this forced existence, it is easy for one to simply keep one's head down and heart grounded. Given the constant struggle we find our days to be, we have no time anymore to believe in magic and mystery, in fairy tales and legend. But, as we run the maze, we endanger our selves because we become unaware that there is a world of wonderment all around us, lurking in the mundane and overlooked.
I am, I must admit, no less at fault for these crimes against ourselves, but I count myself fortunate to be occasionally reminded of this fact, as a I slip for a moment from "what is real", and stumble upon a place where, if only for an instant, my heart comes into phase with the waves of this hidden majesty.
This particular morning, I had done something which, though it is a thing I often do, never before with this purpose. I was awake early to watch the Sun rise. Strange that I had never to this point taken advantage of this common show, but as I said, we tend to take such things for granted. The view from high above was quiet, tranquil. The slow, steady rhythm of waves breaking gently on the shore were like the ticking of some kind of cosmic clock. The sand, neglected during these cold winter months, had a virgin aspect of new-fallen snow. In the grey distance, I could trace out the dark, distant outlines of huge ships. Were they coming or going? What distant shores had they seen? Had they been, like us, lost in the ocean's vastness, tossed about by enormous waves, (worthless) desperately searching for a light to ring out in the dark?
Gradually, I became aware of a gently increasing light from somewhere far beyond. I imagined the orchestra warming up in the pit, and as the opening airs of Das Rheingold began to softly crescendo, I knew the actors were preparing themselves just offstage, behind the curtain of the Stage at the Edge of the World. The low lying clouds, which were furthest away, became tinctured with a softwarm glow. The intensity grew. It was the unstoppable progress of the Sun as he made his way across his airy domain. This light was an annunciation and the clouds were his heralds.
I reflected that it is of no surprise that the Ancients have accorded such respect and mythical qualities to our Lightbringer. To see it now filled me with reverence and awe. The orb slowly became more visible, a fiery ball of burning brilliance. It ascended higher and higher, past the clouds as it mounted its throne.
It seemed to me, in the silent stillness of the scene, as if I were witnessing a sacred rite passing between the elements of Nature itself to which I had no right to witness. I felt strangely that I should be ashamed, as if I were Actaeon unwittingly spying upon the beautiful Diana. I peeked out cautiously from behind the curtains and didn't say a word.
As the flame grew higher, I imagined what it would be like to have witnessed this sight and to have no idea what it was. To be this unknowing creature, I would simply be terrified at the vision of this huge, blazing inferno rising far in the distance. Was it a divine sign or some fell catastrophe come to dispatch of me? I would know not, at least at first, and then, once I had grown sure of my safety, would attempt to explain it in what ways I could, fashioning explanations and tales that reflected my experiences and knowledge. In this way, legends are born.
I watched the luminary continue to rise, and as it climbed higher, I was reminded yet again of the reality of our small place. In a matter of minutes, the sun traced out the realm we have been given, the land between ocean and clouds. In this narrow band, we carry out our days. Yet, the sun, apparently not so content, had, before my very eyes, easily transcended what Man took millenia to penetrate. We allow our consciousness to be trapped within the narrow band. It is where our lives pass and years fade, it houses our concerns and worries. We could simply relieve these burdens, but we just forget to look up. Instead, we settle for days in mediocrity, afraid to soar or to explore the depths of the unknown. We are unaware prisoners of our own devices. We could break free, but first we must realize that we are bound.
What I came to realize from this solemn and majestic spectacle is that we should not attribute such events to some mystical realm, because that merely serves as a boundary between Ourselves and the Sublime. Paradoxically, there is significance in these things in that they have no meaning for us beyond what we give to them. If we create our Gods, does this not make us Gods ourselves? As I watched the Sun rise, I could discern in it no concern for the trivial laws and conventions of mankind. The world does not exist for us, we are visitors, guests and spectators. The Sun and Earth care little for us and will continue about their way long after we depart, just as they had for eons before our arrival.
And yet, exactly in this lack of meaning is where I find a purpose. The significance we attribute to things is of our own design. We must make our own meaning because, even if there is any greater thing out there, we almost surely figure very little in its designs. We must recognize however, that this loneliness is our freedom, that we have, therefore, the ability to shape our own lives, and we have only ourselves to blame if we do not.
For me, I thought that to look into the Sun may be like looking into the face of Truth itself. It can only be viewed indirectly, and from far away. Even then, one can only bear its full Illumination for a very brief period of time. We are left then, to speculate about it, to infer its nature from its effects, and to always know, out of the corner of our sight, it is there.
And, as it goes, so it shall continue. We will carry about our existence under the Sun, concerned with the less-lofty things that seem more important because they constantly tear at our attentions. If we are lucky, perhaps every now and again, we will remember to look skyward, or find the meaning in the gentle waves of blades of grass. Whatever images speak to us, that spontaneously becomes their purpose, to become some significance to us. Grasp onto them, because they will just as quickly fade away. Indeed, these things that trouble us do matter, but we always want for perspective. Mankind is not long for this world. We are here for only a blink of the Universe's eye. We will die, and the codes and monuments we have built are sure to fade. But it matters not to the Sun, which will continue to rise for many years to come.
