Late one day at Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, I decided to watch the sunset, from start to finish. I walked down the beach till I found a nice big rock that made a comfortable bench, dug my toes into the warm sand, and settled in to watch the show.
This far north, the sunsets come late in July. It’s after 9PM and the sun isn’t even close to the horizon yet. I wait, though. I have nothing but time and patience this evening.
9:13PM: Looking North
The smoke from the western US fires reached as far as the east coast of the continent, and as far north as the Great Lakes. While it made for lovely colors as the sun started sinking, I couldn’t help but feel sad for the forests, the towns and communities facing the fire, and the firefighting teams that were spending days and weeks attempting to contain the conflagrations.
After several minutes of simply staring off into space, listening to the waves come ashore and the rocks tumble into one another, I finally got close to actual sunset.
Ever so slowly, the round disc of the sun sank into the haze. Another day, slowly fading away. It had been a good day: a hike to the light house, a way along the beach looking for tiny treasures, and some time reading and relaxing back at my campsite.
Gone, the sun and the day, with the daylight quickly fading into the blues of night.
Sitting on that rock, waiting quietly for the sunset, I listened to the waves, watched the water, and felt the gentle wind on my skin. My thoughts wandered, then slowed, then focused just on watching the colors change as the ball of light disappeared to close out the day.
Sunset as meditation. I need to do this more often.
When your world moves too fast, and you lose yourself in the chaos, introduce yourself to each color of the sunset.
Christy Ann Martine