I’m leaving January feeling bruised by life. My word of the year, ease, has gone and hidden in a deep underground cave. I’m worn out on coming to this blog with my woes. What’s happened now? Among other things, the home I lived in for 27 years with my ex, will pass on to other owners on March 1st. I haven’t lived there for 2 years, and I thought I was over it. Apparently not. Somewhere in a hidden corner of my psyche, I imagined that I might live there again. Recover that sweet feeling of security and home. Finality is crashing down, bringing with it all the scaffolding I thought I’d put in place to manage the grief of so many other losses these last three years. Mother. Cat. Marriage. Home. Health. And more.
Amid the dusty ruins, I have still managed to drag myself outside in my running shoes and put one foot in front of the other. Someone recently pointed me to the research around sunlight in the eyes first thing in the morning—good for regulating circadian rhythm (i.e. sleep), boosting mood and such like. And yes, some of the sources are questionable, so I’m offering no links. A quick Google search turns up a trove.
Research and dubious sources aside, how good does it feel to be blinded by the sun first thing in the morning? So good. Right? Especially (especially!) on a cold winter day, when we are sun starved.
My last few runs have been a battle royale to get my body out the door. And the grace of that sunlight in my eyes has saved me. I run with my eyes half closed, head turned toward wherever the sun is coming from, soaking in its faint warm breath. Like a fireplace that puts out almost no heat, until you get right up close, the winter sun warms only my eyelids, its touch not even reaching my cheeks. There’s a word for this delicious, precious feeling: apricity. The warmth of the sun in winter. Having that word now to describe the sun’s solace in my eyes enlivens the experience. And it is these tiny shifts in consciousness that will get me through. And my runs. And family. And friends.
