Ah, sunset. Since ancient times, it has signaled the end of a long days work for humans and many other day-loving creatures, while serving as a wake-up call for the nocturnal. Sunrise, sunlight, and the hours in-between have long served as bounded periods of work, rest and leisure. Speculation, philosophy and spiritual purpose.
Lately I’ve been witnessing the sun go down in some jaw-dropping settings. On the boat and on the go. With cotton candy (I’m referring to the colour of the sky) and with something cold. It’s become a sort of meditation, you know. Focusing on the orange and yellow, red and gray – as the sun gradually drops out of sight leaving behind its peaceful pastel rays and the sweet promise of a brand new day. In fact, some of my life’s most profound lessons have been digested in the most unexpected places, and one of them is the setting sun.
“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.”
I suppose I sometimes compare the cycle of life to that of a rising and setting sun. I.e. during the course of a lifetime many changes take place. Sometimes the sun is completely obscured by the stormy clouds; but no matter how hard the storms may rage, the sun will always rise again.
But I’m not unique to my obsession with sunsets. Everybody loves a good sunset. They’re romantic, inspiring, energizing and generally good for well-being. The perfect sunset could make even the most stringent artist swoon with inspiration. Like the artist behind the images on this post, for whom golden hour is a dream. That time the evening sun dances across the viewfinder lens, and an endless array of possibilities await. Moments frozen, painted by the sun – without prejudice or instruction.
Lately, I’ve come to realize that I collect sunsets. Whether it’s making a conscious effort to see one or by stumbling upon one on the sands of some exotic beach. Lately I’ve noticed that I collect sunsets, and I’ve managed to use a camera lens to take them home.