Home alone this morning, I was excited about making a banana pancake and pouring real maple syrup from my new tiny ceramic pitcher. I sat down with the paper, my pancake set on a baby grass plate and took that first tender bite with my head bent toward the front page. And then I noticed the morning light edging across the table. I felt anointed.
Few things soothe like the morning light. It is buttery and soft, spiritual and cleansing. It is peace. While taking photographs for my home goods business, I began to pay attention to the sun’s rays, how quickly they moved across our dining table and how the morning sun illuminates the finest details in a subject. There were moments in the kitchen when I was stunned by the light, both its richness and the intensity of the glow.
Consumed by daily details, I often forget to look for the light. The moment at 9:30 when the sun turns the counter into a church, a place with the power to heal. When I lean into the light, my body says Amen.
If I made a practice of sitting with the sun my days would be easier. And yet I rarely do unless it’s part of my job. Somehow I forget to look for the light when my time is my own. Bad habits are so easy to pick up, good ones so hard to keep. I wonder if this is going to be the case with writing. I am feeling a little nauseous and dry mouthed thinking about it. I’ve told people I am closing my home goods business Catherine’s Table, that I am a writer now. My dream job is now my day job. Gotta get some good habits. On Monday or maybe Wednesday. Either way I’ve picked a path. Now I need to go find the sun and pray.