The Golden Hour

I hate to think that Sundays have been reduced to the day to finish all the homework due on Monday, make all the calls and check all the emails that have to be attended before Monday, spend time with the people you love before Monday...

The worst part about Sunday seems to be that Monday inevitably follows. I don't have an easy solution, and this is hardly a lifestyle blog. I'm not even going to give advice or try to life hack or whatever. In my mind, the only way to avoid this is to create an island. The Isle of Sunday.

Even if you're an atheist, Sunday still has that special power to make you think of sleeping in, breakfast in bed, relaxing or laziness. Sunday mornings still have a quality, separate from all other influence, disconnected from time or date, which can make us appreciate things that we might have overlooked.

I had the oddest thing happen to me last Sunday, and I waited this morning to make sure it wasn't a fluke. There was this time, I've heard of it before from friends who are really artistic.

They call it "The Golden Hour".

This is a time that happens at a different angle or time every single day and changes throughout the year. I have one friend who has found her golden hour only occurs in her bathroom between 8 and 9:15 AM only during the months of August through October. Another friend who's very into photography finds that the best time to take pictures at the studio is between 5 am and 8 am January to February.

The term "Golden Hour" is a bit of a misnomer, as the time may only last for twenty or thirty minutes, or perhaps even less. But it's this time that if you look at the light in a place on a long enough time line, over the course of different times of the day, you can tell something just... changes.

I'd never thought of my place as having this magical, mystical sort of "glow" until last Sunday. There was a time between 7:15 and 7:40 AM that I stood in my hallway and the light from the surrounding rooms was pouring in, all the interior lights were switched off and I just caught myself standing in this hall, staring at the color of the light as it hit the white walls. It was a sort of current that seemed to be holding me hostage in one spot, drawing my eyes to the incandescence all around me.

I have seen paintings and art and poetry and theater and I know I'm susceptible to the emotional tidal wave that comes from truly seeing beauty. I had never seen it so unexpectedly, so perhaps I was simply thrown off by the timing or the incongruous location, but in that moment, my unassuming white hallway was transformed. I was captivated by the colors and riveted to the spot by the stunning show that had been laid before me.

What really threw me was the depth of emotion I felt from witnessing this display. I wasn't painting, I didn't take any pictures, I stood and admired for the better part of a half hour. I was alone and I just had this tremendous sense that it was vitally important that I remain rooted to the spot until this experience ended organically. It felt like an insult to move.

That was the feeling I wanted to have every Sunday. That moment where the day just demanded reverence and calm, stillness and appreciation. So, this week, I made sure I stood in the exact same spot and waited. Unfortunately, today was overcast and cloudy and the sun made no appearance, but I still took the time to wait and see if I could recapture a small bit of that feeling, that inner moment. That's all I think we need from Sunday. A moment before the week begins, not to finish everything that is about to come due, but to recharge. So, maybe I make a few more calls or finish some things Friday night or Saturday afternoon. I need my weekly vacation to the Isle of Sunday.

I understand not everyone has a Monday through Friday, 9 to 5 job in today's world, and I respect that. I don't even have that! Sunday just happens to be a day I have off, but perhaps yours is Tuesday or Wednesday. Nothing wrong with that, create your own Isle to suit your needs. Maybe you think this whole thing is silly and you don't need an isle. That;s fine too! But if you ever think you might, just know it's alright to create the space you need to breathe.