This morning I watched the sun rise on the eastern shore of Manhattan. It is a beautiful, crisp, clear morning with no wind and only the dog walkers and runners out this early. Sasha led me to the park instead of our usual walk around several blocks. As we came on to the promenade along the East River I watched the light play on the clouds over Queens and Roosevelt Island and decided this was the perfect time to enjoy the serenity and beauty of a sunrise.
I've lived here for 30 years and don't remember the last time I stood and watched the whole event. My body ached for stretching so I complied. Sasha nudged me for affection so my hand soothed his massive head. I nodded hellos and good mornings to fellow early risers and stood my ground.
The light playing on the edges of the clouds changed from soft to bright white. Gradually tones of yellow, pink, peach and rose fought for attention while seagulls squawked their breakfast overhead. The chill of morning and Sasha's restlessness almost did me in but I was determined to stay and see my goal of that bright orange ball cresting the top of the clouds. Patiently, patiently we waited and were rewarded with a blinding light show. I felt the energy course through me, preparing me for a mighty day of cleaning and organizing my studio and apartment in preparation for making art and living well.