I have been moaning and complaining in this blog for a couple of weeks. I don’t have bad days. I have bad weeks… bad months… bad years. And making fun of my pain, making light of my suffering, is a way of making myself feel better. Making light of serious stuff… it occurs to me that that is what God does every single morning when the sun rises.
You may be aware if you have read about me making light of my raging hoarding disorder that not only do I collect things that normal people don’t keep massive quantities of, but I also collect photos I have taken of sunrises I have seen. As I woke this morning with an ache in my chest I really should see the doctor about again (I have seen a cardiologist twice in the last five years about the same nagging pain, and the best they can tell me is that it might be an arthritis pain in my lower rib cage) I thought melancholy thoughts again about my personal end of days. One of the reasons I continue to collect sunrises is to celebrate the fact that I am still here, still witnessing God making light of the serious universe. I really think that may be the most important thing in life… to live, and love, and laugh… to experience existence. I am a tiny little creature on one small blue planet in a vast and seemingly never-ending ocean of space and stars. The iron in my blood was forged in the centers of distant stars that were born, grew old and died, and littered the universe with their element-rich guts when they finally exploded in an amazing super-nova of stellar fart-gas that it is possible no living intelligent being ever witnessed. I am insignificant. And the universe will not miss me when I am gone. And it may not even know I was ever here. But I am here to see the sun come up. That is a duty I continue to perform.
I know it may look like I am endlessly snapping the same picture over and over again. But every day the subtle pinks and purples and blues… the oranges and reds… make a different Jackson Pollack painting of the sky. And I look at it carefully while the dog is impatiently tugging at the end of the leash because she wants to go piddie-paw and poo. It is a beauty to be bathed in… and I apparently have earned one more to add to my collection.