Going to SUNday School

The 4.5 billion-year-old yellow dwarf star at the center of our solar system is a cosmic wonder. One million Earths could fit inside the massive ball of gas and plasma that "rises and sets" each day between our horizons. As it turns and burns some eighty-eight million miles from us, the Sun regulates Earth's orbit and gravitational pull. The constant nuclear fusion occurring within the Sun's core releases enormous amounts of energy, bathing our planet with just the right amount of radiated heat and light to make life as we know it possible.

Genesis 1 invites additional wonder through its poetic account of the Sun's vocation. The Sun is the "greater light" that God set in the "vault of the sky" to govern the day. In partnership with the Moon, the Sun also gives light to the earth, helps separate light from darkness, and serves as a sign "to mark sacred times, and days and years."

In his Canticle of the Creatures, St. Francis of Assisi invites us to consider the Sun and "his" splendor in relational terms:

All praise be yours, my Lord, through all that you have made,
And first my lord Brother Sun,
Who brings the day; and light you give to us through him.
How beautiful is he, how radiant in all his splendor!
Of you, Most High, he bears the likeness.

This profound sense of wonder for the centerpiece of our solar system can easily dim in light of the Sun's constant presence and regular rhythms; everyday miracles are easy to take for granted. In fact, the last time I remember people getting excited about the Sun was when it disappeared over parts of North America during the total solar eclipse of August 21, 2017.

Until recently, I did not pay much attention to the Sun. When I did, my attitude was often antagonistic, due to my intense dislike of sunburn. I certainly did not take time to ponder the Sun "in all his splendor" or give thanks for its many gifts. This began to change when I moved to Camano Island a few years ago, and the Sun became present to me in a new way.

Here what Brother Sun is teaching me.

Fusing Sacred and Secular Time

My home on Camano Island is blessed with a clear view of the western horizon, enabling me to watch the Sun go down throughout the year. Watching the setting position move north and south as the Earth goes through its annual axial tilt instills in me a deeper sense of time. Noting the change in seasons this way feels more fluid than marking time with my calendar, and my body feels more in tune with the rhythms of the earth. I also experience the annual solstices and equinoxes as marking points that call me to external and internal reflection, connecting my spiritual journey with the physical movements of creation.

This experience has collapsed some of the distinction between secular and sacred time, and has connected religious observances more closely with seasonal change. I still organize much of my time using an electronic calendar, and I am often tempted to try and plan out my entire day. But paying attention to the Sun has challenged me to shift from a clock-based mindset and minute-by-minute living. When this happens, I become more present to the pulse of creation that orders our days and is also beyond time.

In the Presence of Incredible Power

At Circlewood, we recently completed the first building of our retreat and learning center, Circlewood Village. The roof is adorned with 35 solar panels that, at least for now, are the building's sole source of power. Experiencing solar power firsthand has added a new dimension to my awareness. Experiencing the conversion of sunlight into electrical power up close, and watching that power turn on our lights, heat our water, and run our well pump has given me a new appreciation for the abundance that Brother Sun bestows on us.

The project has also connected me to the solar energy revolution sweeping the globe. In 2024, the world installed more than a gigawatt of solar power every day - that is the equivalent output of a nuclear power plant, every day! Despite my own country's foolish attempt to keep us hooked on fossil fuels, the global energy tide has already shifted, and it is now centered on the "greater light" that showers us with renewable energy every single day.

In his latest book, Here Comes the Sun, Bill McKibben writes that we are “on the verge of realizing that the sun, which already provides us light and warmth and photosynthesis, is also willing to provide us the power we need to run our lives. We are on the verge of turning to the heavens for energy instead of to hell."

Learning Limits

Our learning center will likely connect to the electrical grid at some point. However, one of the most educational aspects of being off-grid is living with a fluctuating electricity budget. When the skies are clear and the sun is high, it is like winning the solar lottery - enough energy to go around, with plenty to spare. I can turn on the heat, run the vacuum, switch on every light, and fill up our storage batteries. When the clouds roll in, or the Sun goes down, I switch to an austerity mindset. I know how much electricity each feature needs. I calculate how much stored energy we can use and estimate how long it will take to refill the batteries. This has made me more attuned to changes in the Sun's position and strength through the seasons, as well as to the daily weather. It has also helped me understand better how electricity functions in a modern building, and has taught me to live within given limits.

These lessons are not always easy. Pacific Northwest winters are typically cloudy, cool, and dark. Although Camano Island receives slightly more winter sunlight than surrounding areas, we do not get enough sun to meet the basic energy needs of the learning center. Transitioning to solar energy, as well as other renewable sources, is not always smooth. We are installing a propane generator to provide backup electricity for when the days are particularly short and grey. When we do connect with the grid, we will be able to share excess summer electricity in the summer, which will, in part, offset winter's dearth.

As we in the Northern Hemisphere tilt our way into the grey days and long nights of winter, I will keep looking for new lessons from Brother Sun and will add my voice to Francis' great canticle - will you join me?

All praise be yours, my Lord, through all that you have made,
And first my lord Brother Sun,
Who brings the day; and light you give to us through him.
How beautiful is he, how radiant in all his splendor!
Of you, Most High, he bears the likeness.

With you on the Way,

James

Have something to share? Comment below or email me at james.amadon (at) circlewood.online.