Sunrise Squared

I was out of touch with the Land-o-Blog for a few days while I was out of town. I had the duty and the privilege to represent my main-squeeze AA group at a state assembly, and about 400 recovering alcoholics were gathered together in Virginia Beach for three days. We stayed at the Cavalier.


The Cavalier Hotel opened in 1927, and now consists of two hotels. The original hotel, also known as the Cavalier on the Hill, is only open during high season. The newer hotel, opened in 1973, is directly across from the old hotel and situated right on the beachfront. Our assembly was held at the newer complex, which houses the convention center. As a child growing up in Virginia Beach, the old Cavalier was a grand structure looking out to the sea, even though she was showing signs of wear and tear at that time. I'm glad that the old hotel has been refurbished and maintained. It is the city's only grand old hotel.


This gathering was the first state assembly I have attended, and I was gratified the see how each person focused on the volume of work we needed to accomplish in a short amount of time. Visions of the political posturing, grandstanding, and self-promotion I have endured at so many corporate conventions in the past faded away as I participated in the workshops, committee meetings, and business session. Everyone there, although opinions on methods varied, rolled up sleeves to keep the worldwide organization of Alcoholics Anonymous a vital source of recovery for alcoholics who still suffer. We stayed busy from early morning until late at night.


On Saturday and Sunday, I hopped out of bed and walked out to the beach. I wanted to spend time alone preparing for the bustling activities ahead. For me, seeing the sun rise over the ocean waters is a calming, spiritual event. Even as a teenager, when getting up early meant before lunchtime, my friends and I would sometimes pile in the car and go watch the sun come up from the sands of the shore.


Each sunrise is unique. On Saturday, the horizon was clearly delineated by ocean and sky. Strands of wispy clouds hung above the horizon, and although the sun had not yet appeared from my little point on the globe, these clouds were already suffused with colors of lavender and pink. In my experience, if the horizon is clear at the ocean, when the sun first breaks you can actually see it rise. Steady and sedate, it rose, and I said the Saint Francis Prayer as the sun burned crimson. I was prepared for the day ahead.


I visited the sea before I went to bed. At night, the steady pulse of the waves dominates, simultaneously reminding me of the passage of time and the possibility of timelessness. Several blocks away, the nightly throb of humanity hummed in the heart of the resort area, but the Cavalier is the last large building at the north end of the hotel district. The boardwalk does not come up this far, and there are no bright lights. I think this is the best way to experience the beach at night.


Sunday's sunrise was different than the one I watched the previous day. There was a low, opaque, crenelated line of clouds that stretched across the horizon. The sun sent up four beams of cornsilk, telling me to be patient, to wait and watch. The sand was crossed with patterns from strolling gulls and sandpipers, and the breeze from the sea was a better tonic than the coffee from the hospitality suite. This morning, when the sun broke over the clouds, it was white-gold, and too intense for direct inspection. The pale purple clouds were edged with bands of gold along their tops. Another day begun with prayer and meditation.


A special gift for me on Sunday morning was a visit from one of my teachers from high school, Linda. More than just a teacher, she has been a friend and mentor for all these years. She had an enormous impact on my life at a time when I was shy and uncertain, and she built my confidence and my abilities in public speaking. Although our time together was shorter than we would have liked, it was splendid to see her, and we enjoyed a quiet breakfast together at the hotel. She had asked me to bring my laptop along, and after we ate she showed me a slide show she had assembled from our time at Bayside High School. My, how young and full of hope I looked back then!


Today, I am no longer young, but I am once again filled with hope. I hope you are, too.