Is this normal? When I say I feel this, I mean I feel it with all that I am. This is sensory overload in the most magnificent sense of the term. I hope for everyone to experience moments like this, but for now it feels as if this particular moment were crafted for me and me alone. It’s so simple, but so profound.

It’s 6:45 in the morning. I’m standing in the single corner of my driveway yet lit up by the sun as it rises. March mornings in Michigan remain bitter, and a thin layer of frost glazes the windshield of my car. Yes, I am cold, but the stillness of the morning makes it one of those pleasant types of cold in which time itself might be frozen and you have to hold your breath so as not to break the spell. I am holding a hot mug of sweet herbal tea—coffee waits until 8am. I sink into a deep squat with the sun shining directly on my face—I prioritize my early morning low solar angle exposure—and am shocked by explosion of sensation.

Icy air and the radiant warmth of sunlight meld into some unfathomable magic that makes every cell of my skin prickle with energy. This is apricity—have you heard that word before? It’s been one of my favorites ever since I first learned it; “the warmth of the sun in winter.” My eyes trace the hypnotic swirl of steam escaping my mug in vivid detail; I see every particle wafting out of it and follow each wisp in its tiny, twisting dance. My ears absorb the silence of the morning, interrupted by the few birds beginning to awaken with the sun just like I am.

This is a moment I could exist in forever; overwhelmed by sublime simplicity and wondering if I have been elevated to another dimension—experiencing an instance of utter insignificance as if it is far from that. I don’t want to go inside. But soon, this momentary perfection will move down the far side of the bell curve; my fingertips and nose will begin to notice cold conquering comfort. I breathe deeply in and out, in and out. There is no other air like this. It brings life to every corner of my body. I am ready to begin the day.