In much the same way as “the clothes make the man”, the sunrise makes the day. To be most brief; it doesn’t. At all.

I say this after driving to the trailhead this morning watching a sunrise so colorful and splendid that it obscured all possible awareness of what tends to make such beautiful displays as dawn becomes day (which is typically some sort of terrible pollution in the air, or wildfires, rarely anything good).

I tried to snap a picture of this morning’s unbelievably beautiful sunrise. The sort of bold magentas and subtle lavenders that I feel inspired to paint. They seem unreal even in a photograph. The magenta and lavender hues gave way to bolder oranges, and tangerine and gold, and a vaguely bilious yellow green strip along the horizon as the sun began to rise above the hilltops. In between the streaked clouds, a delicate cerulean blue peaked through. No photograph could capture this tremendous display of beauty and color. I did try. lol

By the time I reached the trailhead, the sunrise was over. The morning is quite cloudy and hints at rain. The ferocious heat has abated somewhat, and it is cooler than it has been, pleasantly so. The morning is quiet, but here in this place, I do hear the traffic on the adjacent highway as I lace up my boots. I listen to little birds chirping and carrying on, and I wonder what they are so excited about first thing?

Yesterday was interesting. Most of it was quite lovely, and spent in the good company of my beloved Traveling Partner. There were some moments that I will reflect on fondly for some time to come and I feel very loved. There were also a couple of moments that I could have done without, and I feel my expression change when I recall them. Humans being human. The moments don’t define the day.

I set off down the trail. I hear distant voices. I see hot air balloons in the sky, visible but quite far away. I walk the marsh trail, more meadow than marsh this time of year. I walk along the river. Somewhere nearby a duck quacks. A chipmunk darts across the path, as it turns and winds through the oak groves.

The journey is the destination, and the map is not the world. Our plan is not our experience. What we choose to wear, the words we say, the things we have or yearn for, these are not the essence of who we are. It’s closer to the truth to say that we are the path we walk, the choices we make, and the accumulated outcomes of those choices. We are the lived expression of our values – our real values, not the ones we say are dear to us, nor some trendy popular sound bite. A flag sticker on a vehicle doesn’t make the driver a patriot, nor does a catchy slogan make a responsible citizen (or a good leader). We tell the world (and those dearest to us) who we are through our actions, everything else is more like something we’re wearing, I think. Still chosen. We are, more than anything, the sum of our choices.

… Choose wisely…

I smile thinking about precious lived moments of love with my Traveling Partner. We’re unquestionably human, both of us, but g’damn do I ever love this particular human being with all my heart. I easily forgive and overlook little hurtful moments because they are few and only moments. No one moment defines the profound enduring love we share. He “gets me”. We know each well and deeply. Our lives have become so entwined over time I can’t imagine what life would be like without him. My smile deepens, recalling the unexpected gift he gave me yesterday, a small figure of a favorite anime character. Doesn’t matter why this character is among my favorites, but it certainly says something about me to see them there on my desk together: Wonder Woman, Major Kusanagi, Professor Chaos, and now Kento Nanami joins them. Aspirational role models? Avatars? Totems? I don’t know… little godlings perhaps, standing as light posts on a quiet street on a dark night. They represent qualities I seek and embrace within myself, or acknowledge and work to overcome. Definitely a bit of both; our heroes are as flawed as we are ourselves.

I sit at my halfway point thinking and writing. Realizing that I don’t actually know who my partner’s heroes are. Not explicitly. I don’t think I’ve ever asked, though we share more of our inner lives with each other than most people likely do. Interesting. What an odd thing. I could guess, but guessing is a pretty poor way to gather information. I think I’ll ask sometime.

I sit awhile thinking about this man I love and who loves me so dearly in return. We’ve traveled some miles together. I hope we share many more. He has become part of me. This love we share is one of the best parts of who I have become over time.

If the sunrise doesn’t make the day, what does? No one moment is the entirety of a day unless we allow it to become so. A day is not the entire lifetime, any more than a step is the whole journey. We have so many opportunities to begin again if things go sideways or we step off the path.

What does “make the man”? For me? His values. His lived values. It’s not necessary for someone to tell you what they value with their words, their actions tell you all you need to know. What are you telling the world about who you are and what you value, with your actions? Are you satisfied with the picture your actions paint? If not, you have choices, and you can begin again.

I sigh and glance at the time. There’s this trail, and the day, ahead of me and the clock is ticking. I smile and stretch and get to my feet.