The Sun Worshipper

I’ve been working for the same company for about a year and nine months now. I love it there, truly. I think it’s the best place I’ve worked, and I really do love my team. One of the things I learned about myself during that period of time I worked there—and it may sound weird after the kind of introduction I just gave—is that it’s very hard for me to feel hot. I came to realize and appreciate this because half the team liked the AC very, very high, and the rest of us would be sitting at our desks with our jackets and shawls in the middle of July. It’s crazy. But it made me love the sun more than ever. I feel grateful for the sun. I follow it when I’m on the bus. My curtains are always open. I don’t mind the heat if there’s sunlight. People on the bus probably hate me for it, but … sitting there with songs in my ears and the sun bathing me in its light is just … otherworldly. It makes me appreciate nature. It makes me appreciate life. It brings me closer to Sapiens, who really loves and cares about nature. We bond over the sight of the trees and the sky and the clouds and the birds. I was once making fun to a friend about me always following the sun through the window. I can strain my neck as much as needed just to keep watching the sun in the sky no matter which direction the bus turns. I smile like an idiot when there are God rays. As I told him about it, I suddenly realized that I’m basically a sunflower. A sunflower with anxiety. It makes me think about Superman often, irrelevant as that may seem. I truly enjoy the feeling of warmth and light and joy and peacefulness that fills those morning bus rides, and honestly, I’ve been too cold for far too long to even hold the tiniest of grudges against the sun on the hottest of days. Now I just remind myself of the cold and tell myself to be nice to the sun, telling myself to appreciate it for all the times I wished I had it and I didn’t, like when I’m at my desk, unable to feel my hands and feet in the middle of the hottest summer days. There is no particular point to this story, really. I just love the sun. And it’s a fresh thing, because I’ve always disliked the sun and loved the moon and the night and the silver clouds. Now I love mornings like nothing else. I can wake up early and get dressed and go to my favorite café for no reason at all other than that it’s located by the skylight and that I like it when Earth starts moving around until it’s my table’s turn to shower in the rays of light. First draft: September 26th, 2019

Where I come from, we call it the sun worshipper. It was never particularly my favorite, but now I’ve come to appreciate it. At the very least, I’ve come to appreciate the metaphors bestowed on it by the human mind. The sun follower. The sun worshipper. Wherever you go, I go. In a way, it’s like Ruth’s oath to Naomi. They’re like that. They follow the sun, their source of life, and they rejoice. I don’t know what it feels like for them when the night falls. Do they, perhaps, feel nothing? After all, it’s just a human projection. I started thinking a lot about sun worshippers when I started working for my company. My friends like the AC cold, and I, by nature, lose body heat very easily, so I’ve come to appreciate the sun more. Even in summer on the hottest of days, I never complain about the sun hitting too hard; I remind myself of my time in the company yearlong and send silent thanks to the sun. When on the bus, I’d open the curtains wide and watch the sun. Not just watch it: follow it. I’d turn around in my seat, strain my neck, change positions as often as needed just to not miss one moment with it. It’s told me a lot about myself. I can be creative at night, but in the morning, I am unstoppable. Give me sunlight and warmth and watch me soar. I don’t know how sun worshippers feel when then the nighttime comes, but I know how I do. When on my way home, and as I watch the sun start to set, disappear from my sky, I feel a little … sad. It means that no matter how creative I try to get now, no matter how good a mood I can have, it will never be to a full extent. I will have to wait all night long for the sun to rise again. On some days, it almost feels like I’ve missed my chance, like a surfer who’s spent years waiting for the perfect wave only to watch it pass by because they were too late. Now they know they have to wait again for the chance to come. I know I have to wait too. Winter days are the worst. My window is so short! I can barely catch the sun on my way home. By the time I’m off the bus, there’s no more sun in the sky to at least give me hope. It makes me appreciate the sun more when I have it, but … this year, winter’s been so long and so … gloomy. And it just won’t end. I enjoy feeling warm. I enjoy feeling that warm existence surround me. I enjoy the heat on my skin. Don’t get me wrong; I get too hot sometimes too. It’s just that … I never really understood how beautiful the sun was until I had to live in the cold. I don’t think this is as deep as never knowing the value of something until you’re deprived of it. I think my thought is much simpler: the sun makes me feel alive. It brings out more potential in me than anything. Like Clark Kent’s source of power. Like the sun worshippers’ source of power. I was called a sun worshipper once. I believe it’s one of the nicest things I ever got called. Second draft: March 31st, 2020