I grew up on a farm, and my back yard was forty acres of farmland and ten acres of first growth forest. I loved to watch the sunset from my bedroom window, especially in winter. The warm and vibrant colors of the sky made a startling contrast to the cold and barren terrain. This was my favorite time to ride my horse, Suzy: in the winter, during early pink sundowns, crunching in pink sparkling snow. It was a lonely yet edifying time.
Our farm was just a couple of miles from the golden shores of Lake Michigan, and watching the sunset has always been a ritual for me. Whenever I'm visiting, I make it a point not to schedule any activities during sundown. If people invite me out, I'll even tell them: "I can't come til after the sunset." In the summer, the sun goes down around 9; in the winter around 6. Sunsets in the winter are far more dramatic than sunsets in the summer, although it's so cold that you can't really linger. In the summer, I take my favorite beach chair, my camera, a bottle of wine, and a real glass, and I linger as long as possible. I don't often take people with me because they get bored, and I hate to hasten something so beautiful. It's also a somewhat religious experience (as religious as an agnostic person can get), and I don't like to dilute the experience with idle conversation. Now if a person doesn't mind just staring at the sun and watching and noting the change of hue in the water for hours and not saying a word, then he or she might be the perfect companion for my favorite activity.
When I was going through the worst of my depression five or so years ago, it was the sunset that got me through. I would park my car in the sandy lot, walk a few hundred steps, climb over the dune, and the second I'd see the blue waters and the horizon, I would instantly feel a calm come over me, just like a wave. I audibly let out a gasp whenever I see it, a figurative and metaphoric exhale that is at once relaxing and invigorating. Whenever I see this special place, I am overcome with the notion that no matter what else is happening in my life, everything will be okay.
When I realized that not partaking of this spectacular experience on a more regular basis was causing me some inexplicable agitation, I immediately wondered if I should give up my comfortable house in the suburbs to buy an old farm house so that I could have this ritual on a nightly basis. Thankfully I quickly dismissed this idea. For one thing, unless I purchased about 40 acres, I could never be certain that a developer wouldn't come along and build a new a housing addition, thereby obstructing my coveted view. I also remember firsthand the hassles of living on a farm, and knew I didn't want to take on that much responsibility again. My friend has a horse farm south of my city, and sometimes we ride horses in the afternoon, then sit on her deck at dusk, wine in hand, and enjoy the long golden rays. She seems to understand the importance of this ritual and doesn't say much.
My parents recently sold their farm. Before the new owners took possession, I did a tour of the house. They haven't actually lived in it for seven years, and I hadn't walked its floors in as many years. The last seven years have felt like a lifetime, and I've never experienced more changes in my life than I did in those seven years. I purposely went back to the farm at dusk so that I could watch the sunset one last time from the bedroom of my childhood. I realized how easy it was to etch this sunset in my permanent memory so that I could revisit it any time I wanted.
The beauty of the sunset is so powerful and absorbing, and it demands of me that I think of nothing but its beauty to reflect on the mysteries of the earth and life. Watching the sun set also puts me in the frame of mind to inventory my day and to discern whether or not I spent it wisely. It is a visual reminder that the day is over, and a last chance to make good on it. I've never watched a sunset and felt sad afterward. I've always felt hopeful, and above all that life is simple if I just focus on the simple things...and take the time to watch and feel.
Here are some pics I took of my favorite beach over Thanksgiving. Grand Mere. Stevensville, Michigan.
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