This morning I stopped my morning routine and tasks long enough to notice the lighting. We had a low cloud cover which cast a grey, dark tint over everything except the snow on the mountains across the valley. As the sun was streaming above the clouds, the snow-capped peaks glowed, a-light from beneath, as if they had some mysterious light source radiating deep within. The clouds then broke up into a mackerel sky, leaving a blue ceiling polka dotted with little powder puffs that each seemed to have their own internal gleam. To the west, two big anvil thunderheads lurked. Now, later as I write, the clouds have dissipated and the sky is mostly clear and bright blue. Earlier, though, I loved having the reminder to be alert, aware, awake; to stand for a moment, coffee cup in hand, and enjoy the moment, to absorb my own little ray of light as the sun broke open the day and the clouds stepped aside to let it through.
I wrote this about two months ago in response to two of the authors influencing my life. They both encourage taking the time to stop and notice and be alert to beauty, to the small events that generate grandeur if we allow the time to see them. I will write more about each of them this week, but for today, I wanted to set the stage with this scene and hope that you, too, will find a moment to stop and be awe-struck by something of beauty that crosses your path.