thank you, sunshine

drawing from the well of today

I am so grateful that 57 years ago I took typing and had a teacher who was committed to succeeding in teaching us to type without looking at the keys. I can see her face but would need to get out my yearbook to recall her name. Ah, that old manual typewriter that was not electric and took full concentration to master, plunking one key at a time. I imagine hearing 18 or so students on the keys was music to her ears.

We practiced, we practiced, and we practiced. I think I still practice, not wanting to disappoint her should she be looking down from somewhere at former students.

As I dip into the well today and draw up that memory, it fills me with gratefulness. It’s not just that the course that has benefitted me ever since, as I moved from high school to the joy of taking my brand-new Hermes typewriter to college to now sitting here with my MacBook Pro, though I do think of it quite often.

How many keystrokes have been made over the years? How many pieces have been written with greater ease because of that one teacher?

Why this memory today

Why did this memory pop into my present moment? It is that I can type what I want to say while gazing out the big windows at the sunshine, blue sky, the artfulness of the big maple tree and the occasional birds or squirrels in flight or romp.

After day after day of clouds I do not want to miss a moment of the sunshine before it might do its disappearing act again. Not that it ever disappears but is in competition with the clouds that have the winning score so far this winter for showing up.

All through the northeast, and “all through the house” the exclamations about the appearance of sunshine have almost taken over other headlines. Sunshine over politics. Sunshine over the Super Bowl. Sunshine over Taylor Swift. Sunshine over the latest health news, though I would put sunshine and light squarely in the middle of my wellbeing requirements.

In a rare selfie moment, very rare, I wanted to capture the sun on my face so that when the next batch of cloudy days come along, I can look at the photo and feel it in my imagination.

Today is not just about the typing skill.

It also is not just about the sunshine, though I feel like I am holding on to its presence for dear life along with all my friends in the northeast.

What a gift light is

It is about light. It is about the lift light gives. The uplift. The difference, palpably, I dare say, in how I feel about almost everything when light is present. It is a shift in energy. It offers me an invitation to feel and be more alive, even if I know there’s no reason not to be the same when the clouds are here. I hear joy in the expressions of others, as if the sun has gifted us with a release of the doldrums, and delivers bonuses of a sense of openness, a feeling of being freer  of feeling more alive .

The sunshine reminds me

The sunny day makes me aware of a longing too.

We long for light. I know I am not alone. It matters even if I wish it didn’t.

My whole being becomes more present when there in the light of the sun, basking in it. I feel happier and ready to tackle things on which the clouds seem to put a damper.

I also reflect on the light sources that exist even when the clouds are winning, the clouds in the sky and clouds in life. I’m not talking about lamps and artificial light, though grateful for those, too.

It is about the light we can share from soul to soul that fills us in the way the sun models for us.

The light from soul to soul that nourishes, speaks, invites, includes, touches, reaches out, holds space, and makes all the difference in the world when, on whatever level, life feels a bit – or a lot - too dark.

It is about light we can share that sustains and brings us together.

It is about the light winning over the darkness.

How to be light in this world of ours, in this day. Today. Even one small way.

What do you think? What is one way?

May our light be organic and contagious.