I’ve been lucky to spend some pretty memorable times in Muskoka this past year, and it just so happens that I’ve always gone up there during the change of seasons.
I mark my moments up there as a symbolic place in time when the physical changes in nature was matching the changes and shifts I was going through internally at that time.
And I felt those shifts the most when it was just me and the sunrise.

Those early, crisp mornings by the lake where everything is so quiet, the physical start to a new day greets you, and only you.
Those morning when the pristine lake around you gets broken by the flapping wings emerging from the water.
Then, it gets quiet again.
Isn’t that how life goes, sometimes?

My very first time in Muskoka, we had two full days of rain the entire duration of our stay there, and on the day we were set to leave, the sunrise cracked the grey skies and danced a performance of colours.
I wrote six pages about that sunrise.
Six.
Every page scribbled down in words what that sunrise meant to me on that day.
Itβs clear that sunrises up here evoke a nourishing connection that just feels comforting to my soul.
Today I thought I will open up and share some of those journal excerpts with you. I hope it brings comfort for you too.
Excerpt from my journal – October 27, 2021
“The most magical thing happened this morning. After two full days of grey skies and rain, a strip of neon pink greeted my sleepy eyes from the bedroom window. Barely awake, I got out of bed to make sure I wasn’t dreaming this. I pulled the blinds back and locked eyes with a landscape of orange, yellow and pinks. A sunrise. We get a sunrise today.
I slipped on my rain boots and jacket, and followed the glow to the end of the dock. The pinks and oranges reflected off the calm 7:55am lake. I sat down at the end of the dock and breathed it all in.
Locking eyes with the sun, I thought about my parents, my brother, and how so much has changed these last few months. I cried at how beautiful and scary it all felt. Here, at the end of this dock with just me and the sun, I felt safe. The sun was telling me that everything will be okay.
I walked back to the cottage, looking back at the lake just a few more times to make sure I captured every ounce of this sunrise. The pinks were gone and the horizon turned to its usual morning blue.
I smiled. This sunrise felt like a secret only shared between me and sky. Not everyone gets to see her magic. I felt lucky to receive this secret while everyone else was asleep”.



Excerpt from my journal – Friday, April 29, 2022
“The first of many Muskokan sunrises on this trip. 6:20am. I went down to the dock to get closer to her. The tranquility of the early sunrise here is so intense, you feel like you can touch it. I never realized that the absence of sound can be something you can feel.
The view was so pristine, and I couldn’t believe I was the only one awake to see this. Everything felt so quiet, yet this type of solitude brings me back the most to myself. The sky remained golden even after the sun emerged from the rows of balsam and pine. And just like last time, only a few more minutes of this neon glow until this canvas turns blue”.



Excerpt from my journal – September 30, 2022
“The last sunrise of September. I can’t believe this month is already at its end. I loved September. It was a good one this year, and it feels bittersweet to let her go.
The water gently swayed against the boats, and it evoked that familiar sound of summer. Somehow, I found this sound to be more poetic during Fall. Just like the fleeting sunrise, the boats with retreat for the season soon.
The mist floated off the sleepy lake, and patches of red appeared on the trees across from me. The seasons are shifting, and so am I.
I inhaled and filled my lungs with this crisp morning air. I held my memories of this September. I exhaled through my mouth, with peaceful contentedness and gratitude”.



I hope you get to catch a sunrise at least once in this life. There’s something really healing and hopeful about witnessing the physical start of a new day.
And I wish you all many new days.
xo ππ
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