Today after a morning of foggy-headed encounters and social gaffes, I sat down at the crowded counter at Bauhaus cracked open my book and sipped my tea. The sun was shining with an intensity that hasn’t been seen for weeks (though the temperature made no concessions, barely creeping above forty degrees). The window in front of me acted as a magnifying glass. A concentrated beam of sunlight drilled itself into my head; while the people lounging outside were bundled in jackets against the cold.
The fog inside my head slowly burned away. I blinked my eyes. The muscles in my back relaxed. I sweated and felt my nose burn. I recharged.
I left reluctantly as the end of the Beatles album that was being played approached. Walking back up the hill, I looked down at my green shoes and felt like running. Though I risk turning up baggage associated with the word, I’ll say that I felt a sense of clarity. Clear mind, clear body, clear skies.
My environment has been a bit rough for the last few weeks. I’ve been suffering through hay fever season. My building’s furnace died a sudden death and I was sleeping restlessly through some cold nights. And finally, the weather has largely been nothing like it was today. That’s the big one, the weather.
Yes. I recommend the sunlight . . . and the Beatles. The sunlight and the Beatles are both very good today.