The Sunshine Shift
There are sunflowers bursting through my fingertips. That is what this summer has felt like to me.
The scorching heat of this Seattle July has pushed me into a place of deep appreciation for the way the city has been transformed by the heat. I walk for an hour almost every day during my lunch break at work, which means that I have observed the way the world orbits around Pioneer Square for almost two months now. The sun soaking deep into my shoulder blades as I walk along Pier 57 makes me sigh happily as I pass by the hundreds of humans bustling along the sidewalk. Recently, I’ve made a conscious effort to stop looking at the ground as I walk and instead look up at the faces of the people who walk towards me. Large families stream off of cruise ships, and although their painfully bright matching t-shirts make it hard to see their faces properly, loud laughter rolls off of them like tidal waves and makes me smile.
There is a man holding a fishing rod, a plastic cup labeled ‘Fishing For Kindness’ attached to the hook, quietly squatting next to Ivar’s Fish and Chips, and I wave. He and I are very familiar with each other. His skin is weathered and tan, like stretched leather, with ruddy cheeks whipped red by the salty breeze. His eyes are deep-set, obviously exhausted, but kind and warm regardless. He tends to look at the tips of his shoes when the world passes him by, but our friendship is rooted in kind of quiet silence that is full of awareness of the other. He knows when I am around, and I him, and our friendship is small but meaningful.
Kids, desperately clutching ice cream cones, are sticky and shrieking, chasing each other around the ferris wheel, making the rough wooden planks of the pier rock back and forth while groups of parents follow behind, laughing at the antics of their children. I spot office-workers seeking the sunshine sporadically along the green and blue metal tables, ties loosened, sleeves rolled up, and heels kicked off in achingly sweet relief, thankful to be outdoors. The seagulls hopping up and down the railings cock their heads at me curiously, eyeing my sandwich with devilish mischief, screeching in indignant frustration when I don’t give them any of my lunch.
THIS IS A VERY DIFFERENT SEATTLE THAN THE ONE THAT I KNEW IN THE WINTER.
The pier is teeming with connection, hot and rich with color. People’s eyes are awake, happily admiring the gleaming cobalt sea, which looks like a much different body of water than the dark gray spray that angrily slams against the black metal railings in December. The thin layer of sweat that has dampened my hairline ever-so-slightly reminds me that my body is working to keep me cool, that my organs and muscles are healthy, that I am so incredibly, fabulously alive underneath the scorching sun.
However, what about what happens inside the walls of a cubicle, where there is no sun to serve as a reminder of the incredibly value of the world around me? My work is largely administrative — most of what I do during the day involves paperwork. I work really hard to make what I do impactful and essential to the success of the paralegals and attorneys working in the courthouse, but it is so easy to feel like I’m shouting into a void — where my work isn’t important, or even worse, I’m not important. I say this because I think that is a common fear that weighs down much of the workforce. We forget how much value that we bring to the table, and the world can get dark and heavy. Working is a huge part of people’s lives. From the time we begin to truly show up in the world, we are trying to somehow work towards securing a career or a future that we think will bring us both fulfillment and success — but we stop feeling fulfilled when we stop feeling valued, which shows just how important it is to recognize how much we truly bring to the world around us.
However, the sunshine this summer has completely transformed the way I think about my own value and the value of the people I surround myself with. I’ve had to learn how to bring that feeling with me back into my office and with me home — it can be hard to recognize the deep meaning of your existence when you struggle to feel like you’re making an impact at work, in your relationships, or on your personal goals.
My skin drinks in the sunlight like it’s water, and I can feel my heart begin to do the same, capturing the tender feeling of knowing that what I do,but even more importantly, who I am, is so necessary and significant.
I am strong and intelligent.
I POUR MY HEART AND SOUL INTO THE PEOPLE I LOVE; I HAVE IMPORTANT THINGS TO SAY.
I am worthy of love and belonging.I have a strong body that holds me up and a heart that connects me to the people around me, and I’ve learned that this kind of vibrant connection is a brightly shining light that tends to attract other people just like it.
I have found an incredibly electric and astonishingly kind shining light who makes me feel more extraordinary and brave every day. The easygoing and genuinely sweet connection between the two of us makes my own ability to connect to the world feel easier and more powerful than I could have thought possible. The world just makes more sense to me with him in it — and the sunshine has helped me recognize that shift.
We are in desperate need of people who know how striking they are, in both body and mind, who recognize the revolutions they will bring forth with their words and ideas, ablaze with their own wonder and truth. So, keeping this in mind, I suggest you try to look up and make eye contact with someone new this week — in the sunlight.
