For a number of years, I have marked the position of the Sun on a wall in a certain room of my house, noting how it not only moves throughout the day, but also how it moves with the seasons.
I have followed that practice, sometimes doing it to tell the time of year (although it can do that as well as any calendar), but mostly because of the way it makes me feel.
Paying attention to where and when the sunlight comes through my window helps me to feel cared for. Strangely, it makes me feel like I have been chosen.
When I watch it, I feel like I am not only following time made visible and measurable right in front of me, but I am also finding a place for myself in the Sun.
My relationship with the Sun is quite different when I am outside. Out in the yard or the woods or on the road, the Sun has no limits. It shines everywhere, belongs to everything and to every creature.
But when I am inside watching in my room, the Sun is more intimate. It is not so vast and almighty. Instead, it seems like a blessing for me. I am the only one who sees it here. It is a light for solitude and courage and, in the autumn, an ally against the winter ahead.
This is Bill Felker with Poor Will’s Almanack. I’ll be back again next week with notes for the third week of Early Fall. In the meantime, watch the equinox sun come through your window, make friends with it.
