Here comes the sun (doo doo doo doo).
Here comes the sun, and I say
It’s all right.
Sun’s out, fun’s out, and Memorial Day weekend certainly did not disappoint.
There is something inherently life-giving about the sun[1]; something radiant, inspiring, and energizing; something so infectious that when it is out—particularly after a long winter’s nap— we flock in droves, gleefully delighted by the opportunity to bask in its glory and catch its rays. Think sunshine, and you are automatically happier: Whether it’s dreams of relaxing on a sandy beach with a cold beer in your hand, thoughts of hiking in the cool morning desert as the sun warms the nape of your neck, or an ironically fitting nickname for a character in one of your favorite movies, there’s nothing quite like the sun to buoy your spirits and lift your mood.
“Sunshine, sunshine[2].”
The ancient Greeks imagined the sun was the god, Helios, navigating his chariot around the Earth. Helios would ride up towards the sky in the morning hours and down towards the earth in the evening. He repeated this cycle—day in and day out—to provide a clear sense of time, repetition, and order. Notably, the ancient Greeks recognized Helios as both the personification of the sun and the primary creative power behind it. As such, he quickly became synonymous with life, rebirth, and merriment. Perhaps it is no surprise, then, that the poet, Homer, crowned Helios as the god “who gives joy to mortals.”
The ancient Egyptians worshiped solar deities or sun goddesses as a result of their believed power and strength. The sun was a source of power and divinity and provided both pharos and commoners with a sense of vivacity and potent possibility.
The ancient Aztecs were so interconnected with the sky’s source of energy and life that they came to know themselves as the “people of the sun.” Their beliefs in the sun’s power were so deeply rooted they performed daily rituals and sacrifices in order to perpetuate and honor its strength.
The ancient Minnesotans—and modern Minnesotans, for that matter—view the sun as an old friend, a welcomed sign that winter is no longer coming[3] and that we can finally pack our mittens and snow shovels away[4].
Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter.
Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here.
Here comes the sun.
Here comes the sun, and I say
It’s all right.
It feels like years indeed. The sun shone last Saturday and Sunday with such an intense resilient splendor that it simply could not be denied. In direct response to this near celebrity-like appearance Minnesotans turned up in droves to bask in its glory and soak up some well-needed vitamin D.
My family was in town for the long weekend, and as the sun shone through our windows early Saturday morning over our breezy conversation and piping hot cups of coffee, we unanimously came to the conclusion we simply must be outside. Consequently, we zipped over to the Chain of Lakes to walk and bike around Lake Harriet and Bde Maka Ska, all the while ogling the throngs of people who had left their homes for a date with the outdoors. Runners, and bikers, and roller bladers—oh my!—people flocked to the paths and grassy areas around the lakes in elated gratitude as if slowly beginning to thaw and pay homage for a new sense of life, purpose, and rebirth. Many cities have beautiful outdoor spaces, but there is something in the Twin Cities’ DNA that is just different enough where being outside isn’t a privilege, pastime, or idea, but rather it is a way of life.
Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting.
Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been clear.
Here comes the sun.
Here comes the sun, and I say
It’s all right.
When Sunday came around and the sun shone with the same gleeful vigor we knew a repeat sun-soaked day was on our horizon[5]. Determined to follow the sun, we made the short trip across town to Minnehaha Regional Park. Cam and I had not yet visited the acclaimed Minnehaha Falls, and this sunny day in the company of my parents had presented itself as the perfect opportunity for what we then had thought was a one-and-done bucket list visit. Few people were around in the early morning hours of our arrival, and I was taken by the lush green grass that luxuriously carpeted the park. As we descended the shallow stairs towards the falls I could not help but stare in awe at the expansive trees that had long ago taken root and flourished to a now impressive towering stature. The effect was something out of a storybook, perhaps one of a romanticized Southern heritage, and I could feel a freeing sense of clarity wash over me as the sun danced through the verdant leaves.
I hadn’t thought much about what to expect of the falls, but the force of nature we encountered certainly did not match my ambiguous anticipations. Our prolific winter “ice” that had “slowly melted” flooded the Chain of Lakes and made its way southeast to form an impressively vocal waterfall that roared with a humbling powerful intensity. All four of us could not believe the natural feat that stood before us. With the symphony of the falls thundering behind us, the lush plant life blooming all around us, and the brilliant sun-kissed cerulean skies above us, nature could not have been more grand.
We only continued to revel in amazement as we descended the path alongside the falls and tracked its coursing waters en route to the Mississippi River. This unexpected adventure, followed by a sinfully saline patio lunch at the renowned Sea Salt eatery made for the perfect early afternoon adventure in the sun. Our skin was warmed, our bellies full, and our souls cleansed.
In one of my favorite shows, Scandal, Olivia Pope famously—perhaps infamously—repeatedly revisits the idea of “standing in the sun.” The motif initially symbolizes her relationship with Jake but quickly comes to serve as a larger metaphor for life in general. Indeed, Olivia commits herself to the sun, eschewing temptations and demons that threaten to pull her into the moral abyss of her highly politicized obtain-success-at-all-cost Washingtonian environment, and instead choosing to embrace the restorative power and life-giving opportunity it promises. The notion that Olivia makes a decision here is significant—standing in the sun isn’t promised, natural, or easy; rather, it is an intentional choice she must make in order to embrace the good, grow, and survive amidst the implosive toxicity of her environment. Could Olivia have decided to submit to the darkness? Absolutely. And, in many ways that would have been easier. And yet she didn’t: She chose the good, she chose the path of most resistance, she chose the way of truth, life, goodness, and prosperity. She chose to “stand in the sun.”
So whether you are looking to up your Vitamin D intake or restructure your life approach to embrace the good and invite growth, I urge you to go outside, take in your surroundings, and stand in the sun.
Make the choice to stand in the sun, and—rain or shine—the sun will come, adding color to your days and promising healing, growth, and new life.
Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun, and I say
It’s all right
It’s all right.
[1] Maybe, I don’t know, it’s the fact that it literally gives us life…
[2] Who doesn’t love Remember the Titans?
[3] While I’m a day late and a dollar short to the Game of Thrones phenomenon that has since captured popular culture, my recent HBO stint has landed me squarely in season two, and I can now safely say I understand this reference. While I might not necessarily be 100% a part of the “GOT” fan club, at least I can now understand the vast majority of memes that populate the Internet. Brace yourselves: The “winter is coming” memes are coming!
[4] Or, if you are like me, you simply move your mittens from your purse to your glove compartment. While it’s good to travel light and eliminate seemingly unnecessary baggage, one can never be too sure just when that next snowstorm might strike…
[5] Ha! See what I did there?
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