It’s heart-stopping when you catch – and streaming sunlight always means I’ve caught – nature in the midst of its most powerful rite. There is a transcendental power in sunlight – the most potent of primitive forces.
The sun is life-creator, nourisher, sustainer, cleanser. Life exists because these rays make the unrewarded journey from source to soil. They sacrifice their potent power to transfix vitality into our death. All bounties flow from the unrequited love of our solar father.
Standing within those earth arrived beams the warmth heats my numbed soul, bedridden by its daily cares and excessive routine. I affirm in my contemplations the central reality of my dependence and the immeasurable joy of existence. This is simple joy; a deep-reaching vivacity that clears darkness and lifts up gems of joy. I’m released from myself by participating in this eternal rite. The invocation of warm sunlight, our life-creating sun, for me, the humble recipient, to be purged by the purifying power of its rays.
The world appears born-again bright. The dark corners scrubbed away by all-pervasive forgiveness that shields, in warmth, its unseeable potency. These released burdens uncap a bounding sense of optimistic contentment. A perfect calm, centred in a perfect moment, surrounded by a perfect warmth.
This redemption makes me pagan. I imagine this feeling coursed through the acolytes of Amun-Ra and Apollo. I would have enjoyed worshipping a sun god.