I sit on the patio, in the sunlight as I write this. The cooling breeze on my skin is offset by the sun's warming rays.
I notice the air itself is cold, as the sun passes behind a cloud - that the temperature is chillsome without the direct light upon my skin.
Then I begin to notice the noticing. I look to my right and up, sunwards. I notice, again, how I instinctively know where the sun is, sensed it without thought even though its currently cloud-hidden: that I automatically turn my senses directly to it. I notice, too, how I don't just look with my eyes, but use my skin's sense of temperature, that I turn my face as much straight to the greatest source of warmth as my eyes to the greatest source of light.
I think of a metaphor in the midst of my noticing... how, for the first time in my life, I can sense where my hands and feet are without thought to these things either.
I notice the blue sky, with just a few well formed clouds, widely scattered. I notice just how blue the blue is, and, indeed, that it is the blue itself which now stands out to me. Not long ago, I would have seen only the clouds, the blue setting just the backdrop, there to give the clouds their definition. I would have stood up and gone inside, having noticed my time in the sun was quickly over.
Today, I sit still, as in the upwards observation, I noticed the sun is hidden only behind a small, random cloud. I understand, now, that the gaps between the dimming of the light are short, and the sun's rays will fall directly on my chilled skin, warming it again, quite soon. There is no need to move, no need to scurry back inside where I spent virtually all my life, hiding from the natural light and the warmth of the outdoors.
Indeed, I notice, too, how my appreciation for spending time in the sun, my gratitude for bright days, has burgeoned. I know, now, having looked upwards and scanned the sky, that while I sit here, most of my time will be in the warmth, and the occasional chills will soon pass, quickly forgotten.
I can just let the clouds pass on by, and be grateful that it is, at least, mostly warm and bright today. I notice too, that I noticed all this, and much more, without effort, without much active thought, and in the moment, presently, as things happen.
The gift of presence...I could feel that sun as I read this... Thanks Gary.🙏😌☀️
I spent a lot of time during lockdowns noticing the great outdoors, travelling in a motorhome with two faithful hounds, a renegade and an outcast from the 'stay at home' crowd. I still vividly recall standing, looking in awe at the sunlit barley field framed by a dark grey sky, marvelling at the contrast and thinking of the words of Don McClean's song 'Vincent'. It meant something at the time. It still does. Now, settled in a home in a wilder area, even the wind and rain are healers, and it all means something. Which is fortunate, because soon I am going to have to get soaked venturing out with those same two hounds!