Sunrise, Sunset, and Doves

 "Every sunrise gives you a new beginning and a new ending.

Let this morning be a new beginning.  It's an opportunity

 to enjoy life, breathe freely, think, and love.

Be grateful for this beautiful day."

--Norton Juster 

Copyright © 2022

Image and written content 

except cited quotation

By Ralph F. Couey

There was a time when I embraced complexities, a time when nothing entertained me more than looking for the one loose thread that would undo the entire suit.  A lot of what I did in the Intelligence Community involved the same kind of process.  Behind every "what" was a "why," and the "why" was important because it explained the "what."  The truth thus sought secreted itself beneath layers of misdirection and falsehood.  In peeling back the voluminous layers, that nugget revealed itself in tiny pieces, or flashes of inspiration and insight.  It was a deeply satisfying kind of life.

Age slows us down, not only physically but mentally as well.  In trying to replicate the past, I find now that the only truth revealed is how tired my brain has become.  This is part of life, something that has to be accepted and dealt with as the years pile up.  

I still work, a job that requires the exercise of intellect and memory, though certainly not to the degree as in the past.  I find that in my non-work related pursuits that I gravitate towards less taxing activities.

I read a lot, mostly history, science, and political science.  I've always "yearned to learn" and the desire to know something can overtake me at the oddest moments.  Modern technology makes such a quest fairly fast and informative, so much better than before when the desire to learn something usually meant a trip to a library or a consult with the family encyclopedias, though by the time we received them, they were hopelessly out of date.  But outside of that, I find myself finding peace and fulfillment in far simpler pursuits.  

I work inside a dormant volcano which sits at the opposite end of the island upon which we live, and that means commuting.  Traffic has been bad and getting worse here on O'ahu, so I leave earlier than absolutely necessary, thus allowing time for the unexpected freeway snarl.  Most days, however, I get there early and rather than show up too soon, I take a little time for myself.

Diamond Head Road circles the outside of the eponymous crater.  At the western end of the loop is the beautiful greenspace of Kapi'olani Park.  Going east from there, the road gently curves and rises as it passes elaborate cliffside residences fronting the Pacific.  There are three pullouts from where a beautiful view of the ocean presents itself.  I go to the middle one because there are no trees to block the view.  Sometimes the slots are filled, but I wait patiently because most people stay only a few minutes.  After pulling in, I exit the Mustang and then lean against the hood of the car, empty my brain of worries, and replace them with a quiet appreciation of the beauty.  

Because it sits on a sheer cliff, there's always a breeze, even on the hottest days.  Below me, the water reaches to the horizon, reflecting various shades of blue.  To my left I can see two of the neighbor islands, Lana'i and Moloka'i, and on an exceptionally clear day, the peaks of Maui can be resolved.  From there, I can appreciate the vastness of the Pacific.  I know that 2,500 miles to the east lies Mazatlan, Mexico.  2,400 miles behind me to the north is Petersville, Alaska.  To the west, 5,400 miles away is the port of Fuzhou, China.  To the south,across 7,450 empty miles is Antartica, at the bottom of the planet.  The islands that make up my state are but grains of sand in an immense mass of water.  

 

While I am there, people come and go, mostly tourists who stop, take a few pictures and selfies, and drive away.  Birds are always around, mainly doves.  On a whim, I bought a bag of bird seed and put it in my trunk.  At some point, I'll grab a handful of seed and spread it along the top of the low retaining wall.  Even if there aren't any around at first, it doesn't take any time at all before they spot the feast and start dropping in.  There's a kind of peace that comes with watching birds feed, and their behaviors.  Most of them are striped doves, due to the linear markings on their necks.  They don't mess around.  As soon as they alight, they're gobbling.  At some point the larger species, spotted doves begin to arrive.  These are about a third bigger, and  more aggressive.  They'll try and run each other off and claim the feed for themselves, but as they're engaged, behind them their smaller cousins are gobbling away.  It's kind of amusing to watch a larger, more aggressive bird take the time and effort to run the others off, turn around, and realize that the food is gone.  I'm sure there's a philosophical or political missive in there somewhere, but I'd rather watch them eat.

Most days I'm there in the mid-afternoons.  But lately, I've been jumping shifts, so when I work days, I get there either at or shortly after sunrise.  Sunsets have always a lot to me, especially here where the colors are so vivid.  I don't see many sunrises, mainly because I'm either at work or at home catching up on sleep.  To get there early enough to see the sun rise out of the ocean is a real treat.  I thought the colors were magnificent in the evening, but to watch as the colors begin to tint the clouds before actual sunrise, and then see the beauty as the sun clears the horizon and changes the sky into a beautiful portrait.  As the light plays across the ocean surface, other colors are revealed, most tantalizingly brief.  Its a time of incredible peace and tranquility.  

I treasure those moments, and as life continues to swirl its darker moods, I find I need those moments when I can completely let go.   Yesterday is over; before me is a blank page awaiting the words of today's story.  And I am ready to write.