Here is a new sunrise view.
Playing the piano is another one of those things in my life that serves a therapeutic purpose. I've never achieved anything like professional ability, but I can make music beautiful enough to please me, and sometimes other people as well.
When I was a child, I had an uncle who sometimes came to our house and played our piano with overwhelming passion. He was a brilliant musician and composer, but a troubled man. I didn't really understand either of those things when I was 6 or 7, but I was entranced by his music. And I'll never forget finding him one day sitting at the piano, quiet. He was leaning over the keyboard, his head laying on his hands where the music usually goes. I asked if he was all right, and he said he was just resting. He sounded so weary. A few years later he took his own life and I always felt sad that I couldn't have done something for him when he was sad at the piano that day.
Who knows how much that influenced my piano love, but by the time I was 11, I was begging for lessons. The piano is an outlet for emotions, a place to get lost, to be moved, to let off steam, to express joy or anger or crazy love.
Having an audience every month or two when I play for church services is the perfect motivation to keep working on pieces. There are few things that I have done that feel better than creating an atmosphere that impels people to close their eyes, or smile, or sway, or sing along, or put a hand to their chest, or take a deep breath and feel. I love to help people feel.
Sunrise is another facilitator to feeling. That's the best part about it. Do you suppose this crow has any concept of beauty around him?
I doubt it - birdbrain that he is. But still, he's a facilitator to feeling. Don't you wish you could see a sunrise from a bird's perspective?