Hello, Friends.
I just headed out to White Rock Lake to take the year's first #pocketsunrise.
My first glance at the weather app isn't the temperature, it's the cloud coverage. I could tell it wasn't going to be a swoon-inducing color sunrise but I went anyway: that's what a practice does to you.
It's about 38* over here in East Dallas. The wind was cutting and I made my way hoping the dock wasn't already occupied by other witnesses to this first morning of the year. The wind was cutting so the dock was all mine.
I saw two cars, humans nestled warmly inside there for it: first light on our lives in a New Year.
The #pocketsunrise practice started in August of 2011. Two months earlier I'd been diagnosed with Thyroid Cancer. A new integrative medicine doctor, and now treasure of a friend, Carolyn Matthews, challenged me to pair exercise with something I love.
I love living near White Rock Lake: a living breathing organism of life: teeming with miracles. I love sunrises: also teeming with potential energy and unveilings. If you've faced a life-threatening illness you know: everyone is fighting for one more day. #pocketsunrise crested on my own horizon.
Since that summer I've taken thousands of #pocketsunrises. I post them for my loving and loyal friends on social media. I send them with intention to those who might need a little extra light. I send them randomly to those I love. Just a few weeks ago a dear family member asked if I had taken a #pocketsunrise on a specific date that was special to her. It was a miracle I had one and sent it right over. I didn't realize how long the light of a #pocketsunrise can stretch.
My practice isn't perfect: it has ebbed and flowed alongside other practices, but the call to secure an image from almost two years ago inspired me to be at sunrise's edge more often. This light falling on this day may be the light someone needs to see in two years.
Back at the dock this morning I shivered after just two taps of my phone and headed back to the car. something caught my ear or my eye and I turned out. I noticed the wind stopped blowing. I walked toward a second dock with a broader view of the east side of the lake. I felt my legs moving, my breath pushing oxygen to all cells. It was exhilarating. At the second dock a sliver of cloud opened up pouring light onto the water. It was still and I sat, praying for all that is and all that I will receive this year.
While I was posting today's #pocketsunrise a large fish turned over on top of the water--strange I thought in this cold. I imagined that fish was saying "stop, pay attention. it is glorious". I did. And it was.
I'm glad I went out and found the color behind the clouds and in the water. I am reminded that when it's quiet it's not complicated. And where it's not complicated, that's where peace, possibility and love live.
I just headed out to White Rock Lake to take the year's first #pocketsunrise.
My first glance at the weather app isn't the temperature, it's the cloud coverage. I could tell it wasn't going to be a swoon-inducing color sunrise but I went anyway: that's what a practice does to you.
It's about 38* over here in East Dallas. The wind was cutting and I made my way hoping the dock wasn't already occupied by other witnesses to this first morning of the year. The wind was cutting so the dock was all mine.
I saw two cars, humans nestled warmly inside there for it: first light on our lives in a New Year.
The #pocketsunrise practice started in August of 2011. Two months earlier I'd been diagnosed with Thyroid Cancer. A new integrative medicine doctor, and now treasure of a friend, Carolyn Matthews, challenged me to pair exercise with something I love.
I love living near White Rock Lake: a living breathing organism of life: teeming with miracles. I love sunrises: also teeming with potential energy and unveilings. If you've faced a life-threatening illness you know: everyone is fighting for one more day. #pocketsunrise crested on my own horizon.
Since that summer I've taken thousands of #pocketsunrises. I post them for my loving and loyal friends on social media. I send them with intention to those who might need a little extra light. I send them randomly to those I love. Just a few weeks ago a dear family member asked if I had taken a #pocketsunrise on a specific date that was special to her. It was a miracle I had one and sent it right over. I didn't realize how long the light of a #pocketsunrise can stretch.
My practice isn't perfect: it has ebbed and flowed alongside other practices, but the call to secure an image from almost two years ago inspired me to be at sunrise's edge more often. This light falling on this day may be the light someone needs to see in two years.
Back at the dock this morning I shivered after just two taps of my phone and headed back to the car. something caught my ear or my eye and I turned out. I noticed the wind stopped blowing. I walked toward a second dock with a broader view of the east side of the lake. I felt my legs moving, my breath pushing oxygen to all cells. It was exhilarating. At the second dock a sliver of cloud opened up pouring light onto the water. It was still and I sat, praying for all that is and all that I will receive this year.
While I was posting today's #pocketsunrise a large fish turned over on top of the water--strange I thought in this cold. I imagined that fish was saying "stop, pay attention. it is glorious". I did. And it was.
I'm glad I went out and found the color behind the clouds and in the water. I am reminded that when it's quiet it's not complicated. And where it's not complicated, that's where peace, possibility and love live.
Beautiful start to a year of love. I love you my sweet sister.❤️
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