Sunday Sunrise*
I awakened at my usual 5:30 AM. It was Sunday, but there was no thought of sleeping in. For on that morning, I had a date with the sun. For me, this greeting and embracing the sunrise is a spiritual act and a morning luxury. I'm naturally a morning person, and rising early to greet the sun felt natural, too.
I forced myself up to the yoga mat for stretches and a few asanas. Afterwards, I put the tea kettle on before taking a quick shower. I had to leave the house at dawn if I was going to make it to a good eastwardly-facing, peaceful location on Mt. Diablo by sunrise. Seclusion, however, was not necessary at such an early hour.
I surprised myself by packing the reserved Zipcar with extras - sweater, gloves, scarf, camera, coffee, breakfast snacks, etc. - and still being ready to leave at the targeted time - 6:30 AM.
The drive to Mt. Diablo was pleasant; not many motorists out at that time of morning on a Sunday. The gate at the North Gate Road entrance to Mt. Diablo State Park stood open at 7:00 although the park didn't officially open until 8:00 AM. I boldly drove on in and up the Borges Ranch road in search of my sunrise vista. If a Park Ranger stopped me, I thought, I would just tell him about my mission and pay the entrance fee. Surely he would understand! After taking a few pictures to experiment with my camera exposure settings in early morning light, I came upon the perfect place at 2000 feet: a wind-sheltered grassy hillside with a 180 degree southeast to northwest view that overlooked the entire Livermore Valley. It was perfect! And warm!
I unpacked the car, spread a coverlet on the grass, took off my shoes, gathered myself into a comfortable meditation pose and waited. During the few minutes that passed before the sun peeked over the horizon of the eastern slope, I reflected on the beauty of the bird calls and the touch of the warm morning breeze. It was a time of reflection and grounding. It was magical.
After a sunrise meditation, I enjoyed a breakfast picnic, took some time to appreciate the awesomeness of the place and the moment and then headed toward a hiking trail I had spotted on the drive up. No need to go to the summit. I had already found my destination.
Next time I will bring my cello along and include a sunrise serenade in this lovely ritual. Join me - two, three or a dozen. Greeting the sun in this manner can give you a full heart and a fresh attitude. It can be a celebration of life, hope and possibility.
* Always take safety precautions and, if possible, a companion and kindred spirit who may also enjoy a sunrise ritual.
In a tree....
...on Mt. D.
2 comments:
Sounds very beautiful and refreshing.
The interesting thing about Washington in winter is that there is always a cloud layer. At a certain height you can see the bright gap where the cloud layer ends and sky begins between the mountainous, snowy-peaked cascades below and the deep blue-gray clouds above. Until I saw this gap from the window of my room I had always thought that I was looking at sky and that sky in Washington was always grey. I had forgotten about the sun. But when I saw this gap between earth and heaven it was so bright and blue.
You can only catch the sun once a day during winter here, twice if you're lucky. Fortunately, like you, I wake up early enough to see it in the morning, as it passes upwards through the void of grey between ground and sky. I can never see the whole sun because the void is so small. For about five minutes it covers the Sound and the ancient evergreens in vibrant pink and orange, then the clouds above are radiant with it brilliance for a moment before it disappears for the day. If the coastline is clear, the gap will appear and you may be able to see the sun again at sunset. But that is very rare here. If only people woke up when I did they would remember that it existed.
The scientific reason for this "gap" is that the Cascade Mountains are so tall that they block moisture and clouds from going further east which is why a sunrise can be seen and not a sunset. The Olympic Mountains to the west are much smaller, I suppose, in comparison. This is also why most of Easter Washington is desert. Usually as soon as your eyes hit the Cascades you can see where the clouds suddenly end as if they are being held back. If you drive through the Cascades (longitude-wise) you can see this change dramatically as you descend on the other side. On one side are lush evergreen forests, and on the other, plateaus, ancient lava flows and glacial paths stretch out across the horizon. At Vantage, Washington you are reintroduced to the Columbia River which at that point is flowing down from the north before it becomes part of Washington's southern border. This is a cycle that has been going on in Washington for thousands of years and why its landscape is so beautifully diverse.
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