…in the morning it flourishes and is renewed; in the evening it fades and withers. (an ancient Hebrew poet)
The light this morning was mysterious. Luminous and mesmerizing. This particular Starbucks window faces west so the sunrise is only implied. But this morning’s cast of a million shades of mauve kept me transfixed. And then it passed.
I’ve always wanted to see the green-ray. The green-ray is the very elusive flash of green light that some people say can be spotted at the very instant the sun dips below the horizon. It can last as long as a few seconds, a burst and fade, but it is usually only the length of a flash of lightening. It appears as a vertical beam, like a search light or lighthouse, or like a "magnificent emerald" a quarter the size of the sun.
The likely hood of seeing it is, well, slight. The chances increase while watching a sunset from an ocean beach. But like everything else, the "atmospheric" conditions need to be right.
I’ve never seen it, but I’ll keep trying. There’s something about seeing a rare beautiful thing. It adds to the stock of permanence and meaning. Which is also a part of all this mesmerizing movement and change. A grand paradox.
In the meantime I’m content with a mauve morning.
We are tough, tenacious, tender and translucent soul-bodies who contain within ourselves a million subtleties of colour and shadow. We add to each other when we show our colours and shadows. We add, and we move on.
A Starbucks lady just gave me a caramel latte sample. We add, and we move on.