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sunsets

I had a meeting yesterday at 7:00pm. The sun is setting these days, here in the northeast, about an hour before that. Not far from the office where we meet on the hill there is a small park with a sidewalk that threads two grassy lawns as it leads to a concrete slab with benches perched at the edge of an overlook with a 180 degree view of Portland. If you stand at the very edge of the overlook, leaning out to see past the northern stretches of Portland and beyond a little to the west, on a clear day Mount Washington claims a portion of the horizon.

I went for a pre-meeting stroll and caught the view. The streets and cove were washed in the solemnity of orange light. The skies were clear but for the contrails of a jet arching like a furrowed brow over the city. Furrowed, I think, not with disdain or frustration but with delight, with surprise. That’s how I stood: Surprised that the sun set again. As I have before, I witnessed this everyday happening again, made no less profound by its normalcy.

There is just so much. So many places to perch and sunsets to savor; aches to salve; wonders to witness. Today I’ll be by the river when the sun sets. Tomorrow, I don’t yet know. Wherever I am — and wherever you are today, tomorrow — may we show up in profound and everyday ways to the aches and wonders of our world.

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There’s a place I’ve been going to the past couple of weeks. It’s a short drive on country roads to get there. There is a pond and trees and sky and a picnic table where I sit and take out my journal,

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