I open the west-facing door to head out of the yoga studio. The yellowy-orange setting sun jumps out at me with a delightful surprise. It is like the world is all a dark deep blue and this orange circular glow is hanging in the middle of all this depth. I yell a good-by to Debra and dash out to my car. The sky is noisy with thunder and sparkling with lightning but in this moment it isn’t raining. It has taken a reprieve from its stormy activity.
I leave the yard and as I drive home I watch the sun as it slowly descends, falling below the crust of the earth. When I first walked out it was sitting high in the sky. By the time I hit the highway, 3 minutes, it was already half way to the earth. By the time I turn onto my grid road, heading north, half of it is below the edge of the earth. In 10 minutes it has been slipping down the dark blue sky like quick sand. So quickly I am surprised and in awe of this beautiful event I get to witness.
I feel it is calling to me as I watch it from the corner of my eye heading north now. It is asking me to not forget it. To remember it. Maybe to even write about it. It isn’t sad that it is leaving us. It knows it is time and just wants me to soak up its energy, its sacredness.
Before my journey to joy I would have noticed the setting un. I may have even been in awe of it. I just wouldn’t have allowed myself to get as wrapped up in it and let it consume a whole 15 minutes of my life as well as write about it as soon as I walk in the door.
All this magnificence in nature is a true gift that we can watch and soak up every day, every season, every year. We ignore that the sun rises and sets every day. We don’t even ponder that we set our daily rhythms, something so basic in our lives, to this sacred event. I wish I had a camera with me. I would have loved to have posted a picture of it.
This spring I was informed that I exhibit signs of being an introvert. It came as quite a shock to me because I chat with people in supermarkets or checkout lines. I never thought of myself as an introvert. The lady waiting at the bus stop, well somehow we probably got to chatting and she shared with me some of the most intimate thoughts she has. I can bring that out in people and I love it.
Introverts apparently like intimate relationships rather than surface ones. We like to go deeper and can’t stand just talking about the weather or some relatively insignificant matter. We want to get right to the soul of the situation and do this with one or two people rather than a table full. This is why I can bond well with some stranger but put me in a banquet room at my husband’s work Christmas party and I am nauseous.
Last night my husband makes a remark about me being traumatized about crossing the street due to being hit by a car when I was young. I think for a moment and realize that I am not traumatized by that event. I have a lot of good memories from that episode in my life actually. But I do realize that I was hit by a car because I was rushing across the street to avoid some friends. Yes, that is the type of person I am. You can show up at my house and I will invite you in for cookies and milk. I love surprise visitors. Well, one or two but not groups. If you call me up I’m happy to meet you anywhere and have a visit. But for some reason meeting up with people unexpectedly really makes me nervous. I hide.
As I sit silently reflecting on this for a moment I recall a crowd of friends showing up at my door when I was in Grade Seven or Eight and pressuring me to go out with them. I had been out with them often enough for my liking so I made up a lie that I was grounded so I could stay in by myself. It worked too.
I see many pieces of a puzzle floating together, many moments of introvertedness (yes, I just created a word) coming together to show me a picture of being an introvert. I see how much I need to do some educating to find coping mechanisms. I see my two youngest girls preferring to be alone as well. Perhaps I can be a guiding light for them.