Always
always
find the sun.
Then make the time to sun your bum.
I look at Dusty the dog and I laugh because she is sort of workless. She has a duty routine but it doesn’t appear to be terribly invasive of bum sunning. Bell rings? Bark. Fly buzzes by? Leap up, chase and bark. Human appears to be otherwise engaged at dogfood time, nose her and look questioning. It’s night time? Go to bed.
So I try it out. I reduce my busy. I stop it. I reboot. I include tea time in the balcony to look at evening sky. I find the birds fly to the sun. That’s westwards every evening. Strange. Evening after evening, flocks, singles, doubles, trios, quartets, they fly to the sun. As it sets. Westwards. Is this possible?
So I start looking at the early morning sky as I walk with a Busy Dusty who has to figure out her Morning Business. The sun is rising in the East. The birds are flying. They’re headed East. Is this possible? Do birds aim for the sun at either end of the day?
I notice that the birds sun their bums too. They’ll stop off to perch mid flight upon sunlit perchables. Building, tower, spire, the rare tree, lamp posts. Birds look busy. Yet they always make time to sun their bums. Like Dusty.
Today I sat in the sun. Used to do this as a child sometimes. Then I forgot. Except beach holidays. Few and rare and holiday. So not routine. The sun is quite routine. Rises every day and sets every day. I eat an orange and I feel warm and content.
I make the time to sun my bum. This is also a kind of busy. An important busy. It’s soul work. I learn from dog and bird.
