in power and light —
the Sun returns
setting with a promise:
tomorrow dawns a New Kingdom
For some time now, I’ve considered myself a sun-worshiper, only I don’t like putting it that way because it makes me sound like a person who likes to tan. As in many things, I prefer my tan au naturel, which means dark on my arms, medium on my shoulders, and lower legs, and pasty white just about everywhere else. This is most unfortunate, but I just don’t have the time or inclination to be a poseur.
I’d like to say that the upcoming — nay, impending — Summer Surf Adventure will take me to sunny Californian beaches, but that’s not happening. Instead I’ll be learning to surf in Oregon; I read in a meme recently that the waters there are “cold and sharky”. But hey, that’s alright, I’m totally stoked about this: two weeks with my girls, no work, plenty of time to sort things out — fun and surfing, hey!
Back to the point: I am a serious fan of the sun. A worshiper, in fact; I mean, have you felt the rain? I can’t tell you what the impact of a single photon feels like in a vacuum, but I sure know the sensation of being showered with countless quantities of them, quantities so vast that the numbers have to be shortened by men with PhDs and pocket protectors. It comes in hot with all guns blazing, crashing in a wave against your face when you open the door and step outside; it reacts with the atoms and molecules on the surface of your skin, exciting them, and I don’t know about you but when my skin gets excited, I get all kinds of excited. Jazzed.
Stoked. The fire within leaps, the charge indicator bars go up and up, the light turns green . . . that’s where I belong: out in the sun.
Did I mention it’s a nice day? The sun is shining, the air is warm, and the big Dakota sky is that perfect shade of blue, dotted with fluffy, white clouds.
I’d rather be doing anything but working today, because I could be doing it out there — maybe with my shirt off? Give the neighbors something to talk about, eh? Maybe I’d overhear something about my chiseled alabaster hero pecs of freedom?
That would be all right. 🙂
Or maybe I’m just California dreamin’ on such a working day.