I knew that the clouds blocked the sun, but in my childish brain as a kid, I pictured the clouds going all the way up to the sun. I believed that a cloudy day or a cloudy night was some sort of darkened state. I think I believed that on a cloudy day even the sun thought it was a cloudy day.
It wasn’t until I flew in a plane and had that moment when you break through the clouds of a rainy day into blinding sunlight that I realized that there is a constancy to the sun –or the stars. A constancy that is unimaginable. From the ground, life is cloudy. But above those clouds the sun never stops.
Weather is really just that: whether. It’s this or that. It’s here and it’s gone. But that’s not how it feels. A cloudy day can bring you down and you can completely forget that above those clouds the sun always shines. Mood and weather have so much in common, both blow through and yet when you are in them—they can feel so permanent.
There is something miraculous in knowing that the light of the sky is never actually gone. Yes, it is hidden from your view, but it isn’t gone. And there are so many days I have wished for the same faith in my own light—when I have felt cloudy and dark--and I have forgotten that the light doesn’t leave, even if it is hidden from view.
That’s why you have to write yourself notes on your good days, on your sunny and starry, full moon days. You have to write notes to your cloudy day self. You have to write notes and have pictures to remind you that the light is still there and to help you have faith that the light will return. You have to make lists of things to do that work for you and put it in an easy place to find: on the fridge, or a post-it on your computer monitor. You have to put notes and quotes in places that you use all the time. You have to make it easy for you to have moments where you can take off and rise 30,000 feet and break through your clouds and catch a glimpse of your unending sun. Yes, tomorrow may rain, but you can follow the sun.
© Gretchen L. Schmelzer, PhD 2014