When the Sun Shines: A Reflection on Presence

I had a full day to do whatever I pleased. As a new mother juggling more balls than I ever thought possible, these moments are rare, so I wanted to make the most of it. My intention was simple: be present and enjoy my 'me' time. I arrived at Hilton Head Island Beach with nothing but a towel, a salad, and a book— “The Book of Joy” by the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu. As I approached the beach, crowded with summer tourists, I decided to purchase an umbrella-and-chair combo to enjoy my lunch and book in the shade. With only an hour left to rent, I figured once they came to close up, I’d be finished and ready to play in the waves and sunbathe. Sunbathing on a scorching hot day is by far my favorite thing to do.

The hour passed quickly. I took note of the sky, covered in clouds, with a large one currently obscuring the sun. Silently hoping it would pass soon, I made my way to the ocean, ready to be engulfed in its vastness. It felt freeing to surrender to the waves, floating on my back, letting the ocean support me as my loose curls soaked up the salt water. Amidst the serenity, I kept my eye on the sky, and as soon as the sun peeked from behind the cloud, I practically sprinted out of the water and hurried over to my sunbathing station— my blue striped towel. I quickly got into position: laying on my stomach, resting my head on my arms, closing my eyes, and smiling as the sun’s rays greeted every inch of my skin.

With a million and one things to think about, solve for, plan for, and ruminate over, I intentionally cleared my mind. Instead, I focused on my senses to draw me into the present moment. I shifted my awareness to my hearing first: the sound of the waves crashing, the seagulls calling, the laughter of children, and the chatter of my closest beach neighbors. I simply observed these sensations without judgment. Peace overcame me, and I allowed myself to sit in it. But it didn’t last long— a wandering thought seized the moment. I remembered that the sky was covered in clouds, meaning the next cloud would soon arrive and the moment I was enjoying so thoroughly would end. I turned my head sideways to peek at the sky, gauging how much time I had left before the imminent cloud would cover my beloved sun rays. I unsuccessfully tried to bring my awareness back to the present moment. I was never able to completely focus on my senses and access that feeling of peace because every so often, I would continue to peek at the sky as the clouds got closer and closer. I wanted to prepare myself; I didn’t want the removal of warmth to catch me off guard. Eventually, it came. I sulked. Eventually, it passed, and the sun's rays returned. I half-enjoyed the warmth, anticipating the next cloud and opening my eyes to peek again.

This cycle continued until the sun began to set. It was time to head home, and I realized with regret that I had wasted so much time worrying about the sky that I failed to be present. Although I was grateful to have experienced that short-lived moment of bliss, I wished it could have lasted the entirety of my beach day. In trying to prepare for the clouds, I removed myself from the present moment. The cloud was imminent! Checking every five seconds wouldn’t make it come any faster or slower, nor prepare me any better. What it did do was take me out of the present, where I was currently experiencing everything I wanted.

Takeaway

Simply observing nature can teach us a great deal about the inner workings of ourselves and the way we interact with the world around us. This is something I’ve heard repeated by two of my greatest teachers, Thich Nhat Hanh and Iyanifa Ife (my mother). They understand that nature reflects us because we ARE nature, and by simply observing it, we learn about ourselves. I saw myself in the sky, my joy in the sun, and my worries and troubles in the clouds. Witnessing their dance taught me the valuable lesson of being present.

When you’re sitting in the present moment with all that you need to feel joy and peace, your thoughts may pull you to worry about a future that hasn’t happened yet or to ruminate over a situation that has come and gone. Simply bring yourself back to the present by reminding yourself that “the sun is shining right now.” Deal with the cloud when it gets there— because it will. They always do. That’s nature, and that’s life. And when the cloud does come, be present there, knowing that this too shall pass. The sky is your life, omnipresent, the canvas. The sun is your joy; it’s always there, even when night falls, and even when clouds pass, it always returns to shine again. Even when it’s not shining— it’s there, and nothing can ever remove the sun from the sky. The clouds— your worries, troubled times, past grievances, future obstacles, moments that seem to take you out of the fullness of your joy— will always come. Some periods of life are cloudier and stormier than others, and some days the sky is completely clear without a single cloud in sight. That’s nature, and that’s life. Be present— especially when the sun is shining.