who are you,little i

who are you,little i

(five or six years old)
peering from some high

window; at the gold

of november sunset

(and feeling:that if day
has to become night

this is a beautiful way)

~e.e. cummings


Eight lines to capture quite possibly the most commonly shared and artfully expressed human experience throughout history---absolutely brilliant.    little i is certain of the night--coming regularly, making everything dark and quiet.  i've learned from experience. Well over 9,000 nights have come and gone in the course of my life. It happens everyday--the sun, doing its thing, making all the little i's stand still and feel that if night must come, what a comfort that we can see beauty in its coming.

 But often little i is just too little to peak over the windowpain, so i hide under the covers--afraid of the night, the darkness.  i don't always see the beauty in impending night. Instead of learning to rest, i wait, anxious for the promised joy of morning.  Here's the trick, though--and we don't even need a stepstool--Sunsets are for stillness, for feeling. sensing. Sunsets are for losing little i in Big I.  Sunsets are for that moment when little i becomes aware of a reality so much bigger--a reality that envelopes and pervades every moment, even the darkest moments. In the stillness, little i remembers what it is like for Big I and the night becomes welcome, even peaceful.  With this feelinging, I can say, "if day has to become night, this is a beautiful way."