My very own sunrise
Written by Ben Tallon
Later leaving for the morning dog walk than I would have liked. Older and wiser though, so I don’t fret; just stay present to see what that brings. It brings the most beautiful sunrise which is there one moment, gone the next. It’s so tranquil, and rich, the way it paints the top of 7 trees along the edge of the small meadow an orange straight from a Monet winter… well, sunrise.
It’s been a few weeks since I banned my phone on this walk, and my energy is good, brain less scattered than it was back then. I stopped in the woods, stood and watched the same orange sunlight dappled on the leaves, took a deep breath, and grew aware of two small birds flitting from branch to branch close by. The dog watched me, eager to get to the bit where the ball comes out of my pocket, when it’s game on.
I obliged. Then when I arrived at the seven trees, when he’d busied himself chewing grass, all was still again. I thought about it as I watched the stunning colours. It occurred to me that this was just for me. Of the entire human race, currently around 8 billion, only I witnessed this sunrise on those trees, from right here, up close, beneath them, and the moment was perfect and spiritual. As it dissipated and turned, yellow, as the sun hid behind low clouds, I walked on and thought about how profound that is. Even now, with hyper-connectivity, with 1000mph lives and algorithmic homogenisation of cultures and ideas, each of us remain unique, the authors of stories that can be whatever the fuck we make them.
To feel that so clearly in nature felt phenomenal, even if I did then have to pick up a pile of dog dirt with a little cornstarch bag afterwards.
And there really is no way that the immersive scene, the feeling, the smell of the damp grass, the gentle breeze on my skin, and the bird song, could ever be portrayed or replicated. Not AI, not Monet, not Murukami (the closest I can offer in terms of the sheer dreaminess of the moment), not any shitty camera phone capture, or decent camera shot, for that matter. Nothing. Don’t get me wrong, somewhere
down the road, it’s likely I’ll use the experience in a story, an illustration, or a metaphor, or something, but first it has to be experienced in the fullest. Then storytelling can use the ingredients to make something new. The closest we can get to the here and now. But why settle for 2nd best?