When the mild weather came,
And set the sea on flame,
How often would I rise before the sun,
And from the mast behold
The gradual splendors of the sky unfold
Ere the first line of disk had yet begun,
Above the horizon’s are,
To show its flaming gold,
Across the purple dark!
— Epes Sargent, Sunrise at Sea

I’m not often at sea for sunrise, but as an early bird snug up against the eastern coast, I go out of my way to find a sunrise over sea whenever possible. Put yourself in the way of beauty, as Cheryl Strayed’s mother whispers. And so I rise.

Getting an early start to the day has its perks, but also its price—generally paid at a time night owls find hilarious. Precious night owls! They don’t know what they’re missing. What’s missing is the crowd. And in that solitude we may hear the whispers of the coming day. We may witness the miraculous beginning of a new day of light and consequence.

Lately I’ve wondered what to do with the time after I click publish on this blog. One answer is to keep on writing. Another is to keep things the same—a measure of stability in an uncertain world. We have agency in how our day —and our life—unfolds. Is this enough, or have we only just begun? Whatever the answer, don’t waste the day away staring at the horizon wondering when to begin.