*Reader discretion advised – the following story is a very true, but also a very cheesy, account of my morning yesterday. All side-effects of said cheesiness will hereby be your responsibility. Read at your own risk 🙂Â
I woke up at 5:30 AM, naturally. I’d like to say it was a result of my healthy habits but it was probably just my jet lag. I debated whether or not I should get out of bed. I thought to myself, “Again, Snigdha? Why can’t you go back to sleep?”. I rolled over and, just above my bedroom curtains, I caught a glimpse of the early morning sky. It was a peculiar color: a really dark, grayish blue.Â
There was almost a tugging feeling in my heart to get up and get ready so I could watch the approaching sunrise. Even though, physically, I knew I should have been exhausted because the previous day was a tiring one, something made me want to get a closer look.Â
At this point, I think the people who know me really well are probably thinking, “What is it with this girl and the sun? What’s so special about the sun anyway?”. And if you’re thinking the same thing, I highly recommend you to read my very first blog post: A Very Warm Welcome, as it explains a bit about why I named this blog The Risen Sun.Â
You see, I’ve always been in love with the idea of symbolism. The idea of something representing a large and complex idea, is just so fascinating, especially since words can seldom encapsulate the truly complex experiences that make up one’s life.Â
Symbolism takes our deepest thoughts and ideas, and beautifully wraps it up in a way that is simple to understand – usually because of the physical imagery.Â
Whenever I see a sunrise, something in me lights up. That once dark and dreary feeling is illuminated with hope. Hope that this is not the end. Hope that I have value to contribute to this world. Hope that there are beautiful days ahead.Â
I flung open my curtains and…wow. I know words will never do it justice but I’ll try to paint it for you. It was just before the sun had risen fully. The way the bright orange was bleeding through the dark, grayish blue was so captivating. It was almost as if it was piercing into the remnants of the night sky, demanding to shine through the darkness.Â
The sun was peeking through – not quite risen, but still persevering. I thought it was glorious. I sat outside my house, in the crisp 35°F weather, and witnessed the sun being born again. I experienced a feeling that, for the longest time, I never thought I would get to have.Â
My whole soul was on fire. I could feel an invigorating mixture of excitement and peace, both at the same time. I felt joy. I felt comfort. I felt like everything was in its place. One thought kept racing inside my mind, “I am so grateful. I am so grateful. I am so grateful”.Â
I truly believe my soul knew I needed to see this. After particularly trying times, an experience like this can provide enough hope to last us a while. Just until we can shift our perspectives back into focus – to what really matters.Â
See, the sun always shows up. Every. Single. Day. It brings light after hours and hours of pure darkness. Despite pushback, it lights up the world with its magnificence…
Not that everything is perfect everyday, but everyday has a source of light. I strongly believe every single day has something worth living for. And whenever you have a hard time remembering that, look to the most spectacular source of light we have: the sun.
And who knows? Maybe you will find yourself to be a Risen Sun as well.Â