Home alone this morning I made pancakes served on handmade ceramics. Even a tiny clay pitcher for the maple syrup. I added a handcrafted juice cup and napkin just because. Perfection. I adore a handmade table setting.
Table set and pancake done, I sat at the kitchen counter with the newspaper and took the first bite with my head bent toward the front page. Then I noticed the morning light edging across the countertop. It looked holy, and I felt anointed.
Few things soothe you like the morning light. It is buttery and soft, spiritual and cleansing. I began paying more attention to the sun’s rays, how they travel across the back of our house. Light poured into my bedroom in the afternoon, but the most stunning moments happen at 9:30 on the kitchen counter. The sun lights up the the counter and turns it into a chapel, a place with the power to heal. You sit in the space and wonder how the light of the morning sun has such power. The gentle but intense glow feels like an angel and an answer. In this particular light, the peace is like a medicine.
If I make a practice of sitting with the sun at 9:30, my days will be lighter. But I rarely do. I forget to pause because my to-do list rules my head. I’m more likely to wipe the countertop than see the sunlight glowing underneath my sponge.
I work in an office on the first floor of our house. I could set a timer for 9:30 and bound to the kitchen when it rings. The sound a slap of ice water, but then I’d see the sun streaming through the kitchen windows. Feelings of awe and wonder washing through me. The morning light is magnificent.