A Summer Sunrise : Sunday, 5:28 a.m.

I’ve never really considered myself to be much of a morning person.  But lately, I’m starting to realize that daybreak is my favorite time of day.  I don’t manage to catch it often, but today I was lucky.  I doubt I’m alone in noticing that there’s just something about the dawn of a new day that stirs the senses and calms the soul.  The delicate pastel colors inching up from the horizon and gradually stretching across the sky; the panoply of birdsong echoing in my ears; the smell of woodsmoke tickling my nose; the glisten of dew in the subtle morning light; the feeling of rejuvenation that comes with a fresh beginning – this is what it feels like to breathe life.  There’s something inexplicably vital and comforting in this moment. I am alive and I am awake. 

I don’t regularly stop to appreciate where I am – at least not as often as I should.  Especially now that I’m in Korea, and I know that my time here is temporary, I sometimes need a reminder that this is a beautifully unique place and that it’s pretty freaking cool that I get to experience this.  I’ve watched the sun rise over many landscapes, but this sunrise, and this landscape – this one right here – is one I want to sear into my memory.  To be honest and frank, I don’t always appreciate Korea, and I sometimes tend to think of my time here as a chore, something I must put up with in order to move on to other things.  But moments like this give me pause.  I need to tuck moments like this away in my memory, to call upon later in life when people ask “So, what was Korea like?”

A little more than a year from now, I will leave Korea.  And it is unlikely that I will ever return.  I won’t always be able to look upon these particular hills, or usher in a new day with these particular birds and insects that sound so different from the ones back home.  The sights, smells, and sounds of this moment need to be preserved, because I want to remember them when I’m old.  One of the reasons I travel is to bolster my feeble imagination, so I can turn half-imagined places into real ones in my mind.  Before I came here, Korea was just a fanciful idea to me, a place I’d heard and read about, but nothing more. But now, it’s in my bones.   Dried squid and gochujang; kimchi and sesame oil; neon lights and city buses; taxi horns and electronic dance music; rice paddies and forested hills in a humidity haze – this is Korea. And this sunrise – this sunrise is Korea too.  Decades from now when I want to remember what Asia looks, smells, and sounds like, I want to call upon this moment.  I’ll be able to close my eyes and feel it.

Mornings always put me in this reflective state of mind.  It doesn’t matter where in the world I am.  There’s just something special about this tranquil time of day that forces me to contemplate and appreciate. For this reason, I’m grateful for early summer mornings.  I need more moments like this in my life.  I should really start setting my alarm earlier.