ecantwell:

I have become a big fan of sunrises lately. Sunsets get all the credit, all the social media likes, all the romance. Sure, okay, more people are awake when the sun sets (especially these post-daylight-savings days), but I think there is also something lingering about a sunset that allows it to be mused over and loved and savored by its admirers. Sunrises, as I have come to observe, are often over very fast. The gorgeous part doesn’t hang around. It is there and then it is not.

It is there and then it is not and then it’s time to eat breakfast, to answer emails, to fight traffic, to stare at the clock, to spend money, to feel tired, to wish you were somewhere else. You can’t settle into a sunrise with a glass of wine and a nice book. You can’t use it as a chance to reflect on things. 

Sunrises are capricious and selfish. They are not interested in rewarding you. They are the kind of lover who leaves when the act is over. This is brave of them. They don’t want to cater to your needs. They don’t want to perform for you on cue. They take care of themselves, they are gorgeous when they want to be, they are not ashamed to become mundane again very quickly. 

And yet how can you wake up to this and not feel somehow more whole, more alive, more determined? Walk into it, walk through it. It will be gone too soon not to dive in like some holy Olympian. Take it by its stupid reins and ride it into the ground. You’re only awake like this for a minute.

Don’t waste it.