Meet the first light of day outdoors for 365 days, beginning Jan. 1, 2010.
The Year is Complete!
Please feel free to look back through the 365 days of 2010 sunrises, but "a year of getting up to meet the day" is officially completed. There will be no more new posts.
PLEASE JOIN ME FOR MORE SUNRISE POSTS AT THE SUNRISE BLOGGER, WHERE YOU WILL FIND SUNRISE PHOTOS AND REFLECTIONS FROM ME AND FROM CONTRIBUTORS AROUND THE GLOBE.
Thank you so much for visiting.
A one year blog project in which I share a process of transitions: emptying of the nest, reacquainting with my rusty intellect, plowing onward with my first full length book, entering the second half of my first century, and generally reflecting on life.
Just prior to 2010, I challenged myself to be outdoors for sunrise every day for one year, beginning on Jan. 1, 2010. Not being a morning person, I knew it would be a significant change in my life. I had a lot of changes being thrown at me that year, but this change was in my control.
My morning ritual was such a dramatic success on so many levels that I have decided to carry on, at least occasionally.
I am now 50 years old, an empty nester, mother of four launched children. I have also become a writer, with about 70 published articles in 2010 in addition to my 365 blog posts. I am also slowly writing my way through my first full length book - about the life of Rachel Field, author, poet, and former owner of our family's summer home on an island off the coast of Maine.
When the spirit moves me to reflect upon the writing life, the natural world, family relationships, the journey of life, love, and laughter, I will get up before the sun, watch the rising of day, and record my continuing odyssey. (January, 2011)
I had never heard of Devens, Massachusetts before I came down here for a frisbee tournament this weekend. This time it is my daughter playing rather than my son.
As fortune would have it, we came upon a hotel just a stone's throw (well, a long bomb, maybe) from the playing fields. As I was finishing my circuit around the complex the earliest arrivals emerged from their cars, just before the sun crested the horizon.
This morning's walk reminded me very much of my Florida dawns, when I was there watching N play softball last March. Hotel near the tournament, sunrise over a stretch of playing fields at dawn, empty stretch of grass preceding the oncoming hordes, and even breakfast with some of the hordes.
The standard motel fare - belgian waffle maker, juice machine, mini cereal boxes, shriveled looking breads, fruit. But - the breakfast room was stuffed to the gills with hungry 20-somethings gorging their pre-game bodies before the day's competition. Slim pickings for the likes of me, but maybe it will calm down later.
J and I got to hang out a bit with T in Boston before we drove down here last night. We'll see N on the fields today and tomorrow, take the girls out on the town tonight, and drive them both up to Middlebury for a quick Vermont visit tomorrow.
The American flag, flying alone on a lovely Ocotober dawn, is deeply inspiring to me. Too often it is fraught with partisan overlay, belligerence, the selective syrup of human interpretations dragging it down into a sodden, sticky heap of misunderstanding.
It is a beautiful, light, flying symbol this morning. It is our history, our unity, our belief in ourselves as a proud and productive people with a noble spirit.
Yesterday, at Emerson, T showed us a class exercise where a bunch of her classmates characterized their generation. Their estimation of themselves is disturbing - "shallow" was the overwhelming assessment. I realized that that is how they are constantly depicted in the media. Perhaps there is some truth in that, and perhaps it is also being perpetuated by society - they are becoming what we tell them they are.
There must be a gentle and noble way to reclaim the beauty of the spirit of the United States of America for tolerant, open-minded, even liberal thinking young people. Perspective is one thing, but shame in your country is self-annihilating.
Thank goodness for these morning walks. It is truly a period of calming reflection for me - invaluable during these chaotic comings and goings, travel and logistics. It is my constant, and it is always - always, a peaceful, quiet, contemplative time of day. And usually, maybe even dependably beautiful in all conditions.
I don't know what will happen when this year is over. It remains a challenge for me, most mornings, to drag myself out from between the enfolding envelope of warmth and slumber that my bed offers. Even now when dawn is at a very civilized hour for many. But -- the benefits of dawn walks on my entire outlook are irreplaceable. I hope I will be able to continue to drive myself out there, at least part of the time.