There is nothing more musical than a sunset
When my battery is running low, I look for a good quote or verse, copy it into my journal, and think on it for a while. It's a tiny mindfulness practice that has almost reached the muscle memory stage by now.
Usually, that one encounter with the quote and its owner is enough for me.
But when I ran across this quote earlier this week ⤵
"There is nothing more musical than a sunset."
I wanted to know more.
So, I leaned in.
According to Wikipedia, Claude Debussy was a French composer who found his way to musical genius early, composed one complete opera at 40, and then died in his mid-50s, a life snuffed out too early by cancer.
About nature, he said this ⤵
"I have made mysterious Nature my religion ...
When I gaze at a sunset sky
and spend hours contemplating its marvellous ever-changing beauty,
an extraordinary emotion overwhelms me.
Nature in all its vastness is truthfully reflected in my sincere though feeble soul.
Around me are the trees stretching up their branches to the skies,
the perfumed flowers gladdening the meadow,
the gentle grass-carpeted earth, ...
and my hands unconsciously assume an attitude of adoration."
When I read those words, a lightbulb flicked on in my soul.
Suddenly, I was thinking about all the times I've been changed, my mood lifted, my outlook brighter, my perspective deeper by a simple sunset, sunrise, or a long walk in the woods.
And I smiled a big, grateful smile.
In a culture constantly telling us that buying new things, shiny things, bigger and better things and attending all of the events, shiny events, bigger and better events is definitely going to make us happy, it can feel difficult, strange, and more than a little eccentric to say, "Let's do lunch outside at the park today" or "I can't go — I need to see the sunset tonight" or "I can't make it — I really can't afford to skip my walk in the woods this afternoon".
But these words from over 100 years ago spoken by a French composer tell us a new story. They say ⤵
Nature is for everyone.
It's free and always available.
It's most likely right outside your window, in fact.
Go see it.
Go touch it.
Go feel what it does inside of you.
You can't explain it.
But you don't have to.
You only need to remember it.
If your battery happens to be running low today, I hope you can find a little time for a sunset, a short walk in the woods, or maybe even an ocean view if it's close to you.
And I hope it fills you up right to the tippy top.
The story continues. . . [one week later]
One night this week, I took my kiddos out for dinner and book shopping in Bar Harbor, and we stumbled upon one of the most musical, magical, mind-blowing sunsets I've ever seen. (There was even a rainbow 🤯)
Maybe my subconscious mind had been looking for a mind-blowing sunset and found a way to draw me to that particular place at that particular moment.
Maybe this is just one of those moments where we get what we're looking for, much the same way we see green cars everywhere the week after we've been shopping for green cars. Or the way we see new opportunities when we talk to a friend with a big abundance mindset. Or find purpose in our work when someone tells us they admire what we do.
Or maybe, just maybe, I was sent to that sunset for another reason —
Because as I've been trying to write our Friday morning email for days now, I haven't been able to think about anything else except that sunset, which is why you're reading this right now.
I could go on and on about getting what we're looking for in life, taking time to see mind-blowing nature scenes with the people we love, or the way the Universe has our back and just happens to show us what we need to see at the moment we need to see it.
But I won't.
I'll only say this — I don't often make time to stop what I'm doing and see the sunset, but I did that night.
Maybe it was just a fluke that the one night I've seen the sunset in recent months was one of the most magical sunsets I've ever seen. (I happen to know they're not all quite this magical.)
Or maybe someone or something knew this week marks a difficult anniversary for my family (tomorrow marks 4 years since losing my mom), and we could use a little extra magic to get us through.
I'm choosing to believe in the magic option.
I hope I can always choose to believe the magic option.
Whatever's on your calendar, piling up on your to-do list, or weighing down your heart and mind today, I hope you find a little bit of magic waiting somewhere for you, too.
Actually, I hope you find a lot.
Maybe even right this very moment.