Probably countless thinker-writer types, even including some within my little FB circle of friends, have recently considered or re-considered the relationship between light and dark, sun and shadow—two forces linked in infinite, symbiotic paradox. We can only perceive darkness if we can also perceive light; there is no shadow on a sunless day. I, too, have given this a lot of thought in the past few weeks, especially as I’ve practiced finding joy, or light, in even the more difficult, or darker, days.
I haven’t been running in the last week or so, partially because it’s just been too hot for me to do it safely, but mostly because I’ve been nursing a sore ankle. Workouts are a fun alternative and do the trick of raising my heart rate on a regular basis, but running is my first love and I’ve been patiently holding off, and missing it.
By the time Stephen and I finished our workout this morning in the little covered alcove outside our front door, the outdoor temperature had already reached 95F. In an effort to catch my breath a little I took a few “cool-down” steps into the adjacent parking lot, and noticed a continuous shady strip of asphalt running along the side of the building—a long jagged shadow made by the morning sun still rising westward from behind the roofline.
The shadow beckoned like a trail, or a track, and without really thinking about it I stepped into the shade and started gingerly jogging the length of it, and then back and down, and back again, until I had a few miles done. It was very slow going and my ankle isn’t completely healed, but I smiled the whole way and savored every shady step, grateful to the sun for the gift of that sheltering shadow.
Today, the shade and shadow are my joy. #joyinplace
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