SUNRISE, SUNSET

 21 December, 2014

San Francisco

⊛Something happened today that I took note of: the sun rose. 

OK, that happens every day, right? 

Well, what if it happened TWICE in a day? 

You read right: What would you think if you saw the sun rise TWICE in the same day?? 

SUNSET

Years ago, as a very young boy, my mother used to read to me from The Little Prince. In this wonderful book, the hero of our story, the Little Prince, lived on a tiny planet far, far away.  He would sit on his chair and admire the sunset. His planet was so small that when the sun went down, he would simply move his chair around to where he could observe that same sunset once again.

“But on your tiny planet, my little prince, all you need do is move your chair a few steps. You can see the day end and the twilight falling whenever you like... "One day," you said to me, "I saw the sunset forty-four times!” -The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

"The Little Prince" is a children's book for adults, and decades passed before I began to fathom the meaning of that wonderful work. 

Like the Little Prince, I have always enjoyed sunsets. It is a time for rest, contemplation, regrets, remembrance, even atonement with the Universe before the infinite darkness spreads its inky mantle over the brilliant aura the earth wears as the day dies. 

The beauty of a sunset is a reward for a day lived. The sunset does not judge whether one had lived that day well or not; it leaves that question in the hands of a far harsher judge: ONESELF!

Since the day is dying, that golden coronet we see is also in reality a funeral shroud, which is why sunsets are sad for me as well as pleasurable. It is a pause in a journey from whence return is impossible. We move steadily forward. We only pass this way one time. It's a strange bittersweet mix: a tear and a smile. 

SUNRISE

Today, while on a flight over the Pacific from Osaka, Japan to San Francisco, I saw several people crowded around a window, watching something with great interest.

It was the SUNRISE! 

I've seen many, to be sure, but, since I am not by any means a morning person, I have seen way fewer sunrises than I have sunsets. This is a shame, for in a sunrise can be found the promise of something new, forgiveness for past mistakes, and another chance to do better. It could be the beginning of one's last day on earth. or it is an embarkation on yet another part of the journey of one's life.  It could be perhaps a new start. 

In short, a sunrise is the wrapper of a great gift - the gift of life. Above all, it is a time to be thankful for that gift. 

This particular day was the 21st of December - the Winter Solstice - the first day of a new season, winter. It was also the shortest day of the year. 

I had gotten up various times that day, having actually already been awake at the stroke of midnight in the Land of the Rising Sun - Japan! As the first feeble rays of daylight penetrated the thick rain clouds over Osaka, I was still coaxing an unwilling body to finally surrender to the fatigue I felt and go to sleep. So much of my time seems to be devoted to chasing elusive sleep. It's almost like trying to find the end of the rainbow: no sooner has one nearly attained it, when it disappears into the horizon only to reappear elsewhere in the perceived near distance. 

Fighting a cold, I lay in my bed, having at long last caught up to, and embraced deep, peaceful slumber. Sleep came in small doses, as the wee hours of the morning became day. Finally I awoke to my mid-afternoon wake up call: it was time to get ready to go to work. 

After a well-deserved café latte at Kansai Airport, I boarded my plane for San Francisco, and it took flight at about 6:30 pm local time, the craft banking eastward, swiftly climbing through the thick, darkening clouds, and Osaka quickly disappeared in the mist below.

The hours flew fast, as I busied myself with the job at hand. At some time a number of hours later, we passed the International Date Line, and it was Yesterday Once More.

This brings me to the sunrise, and those who admired it. They commented how beautiful it was, and a few even took pictures. One gentleman on the flight had just glanced at this celestial artwork, and he smiled at me. I told him:"Congratulations!"

He asked why, and I explained: "You have experienced something few people get to see: TWO sunrises in the same day!"

He looked puzzled, and I explained: "You got up this morning in Japan, and saw the morning come. Now," I continued: "We have caught up with that very same day, on the other side of the world, and you just saw it being born once again!"

We landed later, and after many hours more, the day drew to a close. From my hotel room window I later saw the daylight disappear today for the second time, and again night fell.

I attach no philosophical meaning to this phenomenon. It is entirely  man-made - artificial. The International Date Line is an invisible, arbitrary line of demarcation established only 130 years ago, and crossing it in order to catch up with the day left behind is only possible in a jet airplane or in a spacecraft - not by simply moving a chair, as the Little Prince did. 

So I take note that I am fortunate to be able to realize the uniqueness of the event. I can tell my children, and my children's children that, on the "shortest day of the year" I saw two sunrises and two sunsets in the same day. What a story for them!

SUNSET

As for the shortest day of the year, that did not apply to me, given that I was awake at 12:01am Osaka time, and went to sleep in San Francisco at 11:00pm the night of the same calendar day.

For me, the 21st of December, the 24-hour so-called "shortest day of the year" - actually lasted FORTY HOURS!

...And some people wonder why I arrive home so tired!