Pefect for a Sunday (Or, Proof)

Or any day, really.
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(March 11, 1999)

Can you see the wind? Can you see the fragrance of flowers floating on the breezes? Can we see thought or what it is that changes a tree from bare limbs and brown leaves to plush green? Can you see love or joy or peace?

We can only see evidence of these invisible things, and it's enough to make us know they do exist. The substance of life is so evident, so real and beautiful. Why is it we ever question the existence of our Creator who set everything in motion?

We see the changes of day and night . . . the seasons, the stars, the moon, the sun. Anyone must know it is the work of someone more powerful than man.

Peace,
Tawanka

The Season of Beautiful Sunsets

On my drive home today, I realized that it's now what I like to call "The Season of Beautiful Sunsets." I'm blessed because I get to drive in the direction of the sunset, as opposed to sneaking peaks at it in my rear-view mirror.

It's that time of year (which thankfully comes twice), where the sky is resplendent with color in the evening. It's the promise of the change from winter to spring, the promise of new life - or the promise of the change from fall to winter, the promise of the blessings of quiet introspection. It's the reminder that what is will pass and what will come is so much better. It begs the one who sees the sunset to dare to be sad or melancholy or upset, because it is so impossible to do so when presented with such beauty and the promise of peace. It's a season that gives me hope, which is greatly challenged in my life these days.

And over that 30 minute drive, the colors melted from a pale yellow to brilliant orange to a deep red and finally a lavender, before I had to turn the other direction. And I'd post a photo, but I hadn't realized I was so close to The Season, so the camera's not in the car - and the one in the phone won't do these sunsets justice. But the camera will be in the car tomorrow.

And tomorrow, there might be a photo of The Season posted here.

Where does the time go?

Why is it that I hit upon the realization today that in about a week, it's AUGUST?

It's not so much that tournament is in August. I'm well aware of that and I know it's been charging at me with full force ever since I agreed to do it before last year's tournament had even begun. It's not that.

It's that I'm trying to figure out where my summer went. Why haven't I found my way to Carowinds yet? Or Emerald Pointe? Wasn't this the summer that I was actually going to go to the Bowman Gray track? Why hasn't Jimmy Buffet announced a concert here yet? Why is Dave Matthews coming so late - in September? Why haven't I been to the beach more often? Or to the mountains at all?

I'm sure this has something to do with the fact that I realized the days are getting shorter. When the alarm went off this morning, the second thought I had (after the obligatory curses of the clock) was this: "The sun's not streaming through my window this morning."

I'm also sure that it has something to do with the fact that it was a bit overcast today, and I have to admit that I'm probably susceptible to SAD, like my aunt is. I hate gloomy, overcast, dreary, yucky weather. Makes me feel like crap.

There's always a disconnect for me between the solstices and when they actually "happen" for me: I don't feel the days getting shorter or longer right after the solstice. Heck, this year, I didn't feel the change until damn near August, and the summer solstice is June 21.

Realizing that the summer solstice has actually passed upsets me. I'm a summer girl at heart. Always have been. Love the heat. Love the humidity.

Love what you can do in summer that just doesn't happen in the fall, winter or spring: like eat a really good, fresh, ripe tomato that you just pulled off of the plant 30 seconds ago. Or entertain that fantasy of skinny dipping - and maybe, just maybe, if the timing was right, do it. Or drink Coronas whenever you want because it just feels right. Or go to see the Grasshoppers or the Warthogs. Or go to Music in the Streets. Or stay up late, because your body thinks that 9:30 p.m. or 10 p.m. is too early. "Wasn't it just light a little bit ago?" it asks.

*Sigh.*

There is an appointed time for everything, and a time for every affair under the heavens.
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to uproot the plant.
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to tear down, and a time to build.
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.
A time to scatter stones, and a time to gather them;

a time to embrace, and a time to be far from embraces.
A time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away.
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to be silent, and a time to speak.
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace . . .

I recognized that there is nothing better than to be glad and to do well during life.

-Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, 12, NAB