Kip Koelsch Author

For a long time, I’ve been a morning workout person. When I’m not injured many of those morning workouts start pre-dawn, on the water–paddling. I’ve posted hundreds of photos from my morning paddles–reveling in the warm colors and wonderful optical effects. Each morning, each sunrise is unique–some more magnificent, some more subtle.

Many times the dawn not only creates spectacular sights in the east, but also in the west–typically an orange glow on storm clouds offshore in the Gulf.

This morning, as I started my return walk to the east, the sky brightened and the fiery glow of the sun below the horizon was obvious–and beautiful. Orange rays from the sun and shadow rays from the clouds burst from that expectant focal point. It was a phenomenon I had seen on countless occasions. And, because of that familiarity–as I walked–my eyes wandered. They wandered to the water–to the north, to the south and finally over my right shoulder to the west.

What I saw over my right shoulder to the west stopped me–orange and shadow rays emanating from a focal point in the west. In the west?

I couldn’t recall ever having seen this before–not at sunrise. Never at sunrise.

Was it from the light of the setting moon? No. The moon was still high in the sky and but a crescent. I was stumped. I kept walking.

My mind wandered in all sorts of directions–a crashing meteor, an oil rig fire, an alien spaceship.

Of course, there were two pauses to take photos. And during the second pause I moved my gaze from horizon to horizon–from west to east. I wondered–could they be the same rays originating in the east? Could they be converging on a perspective point due to the curvature of the earth? This possibility seemed the most logical–most scientific–explanation I could fathom.

I kept walking and from that point on my thoughts shifted from explanation to wonderment. All the years I’ve spent experiencing sunrises and today I saw something magnificent that I had never seen before–something new.

The realization jostled me just enough–shaking me out of a bit of a mental slumber. Admittedly, I’ve been wallowing in a grey funk. Sad about not being able to do my normal fitness routines. Stressed after cancelling my upcoming triathlon event due to the Red Tide outbreak in Southwest Florida. I was having a hard time moving forward–looking forward.

This morning I took some steps–literally and figuratively–reminded by those rays in the west that each day is something to look forward to–something never seen before.