Home alone in the 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. Late morning, the sun runs through a Japanese maple, projecting a delicate black pattern of branches on the back of our house. It’s a work of art. Light pours into my bedroom in the afternoon through double-hung windows. Large panels of gold, moving by inches across the room. You can see the panels do a tiny hop if you watch very closely.
The most stunning moment happens at 9:30 on the kitchen counter. The sun lights up the surface and turns it into a golden 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. It feels like medicine too.
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 is wrapped around my head. I’m more likely to wipe invisible crumbs from the countertop than see the sunlight glowing beneath my sponge.
My office is on the first floor of our home. I could set a timer for 9:30 and bound to the kitchen when it rings. I could see the sun streaming through the kitchen windows. Feelings of awe and wonder washing through me. The morning light is magnificent.