SUNDAY — The Sun That Forgot to Set

More about SUNDAY — The Sun That Forgot to Set

Sunday arrived wearing a golden bathrobe that had belonged to God before God decided to become a sunflower.
Nobody knew exactly when that happened.
The sun was enormous, with its eyes closed, floating above the countryside like a gigantic fried egg contemplating the meaning of breakfast.
Below it sat a woman who had stopped asking questions.
She had spent the previous six days being useful. On Monday she had carried a bucket of responsibility. On Tuesday she had repaired a broken promise. Wednesday was devoted to worrying about Thursday, and by Friday she had completely forgotten what she was worrying about.
Saturday she washed her socks.
Now it was Sunday.
A golden dog slept beside her, dreaming of a universe where every stick thrown into eternity eventually came back.
The woman opened her arms to the sunlight, not because she wanted anything, but because she had finally discovered that wanting nothing was a perfectly respectable occupation.
A little golden cup sat nearby, steaming with something that might have been tea or immortality. It hardly mattered. Both were best enjoyed before they got cold.
Across the valley, a temple stood on a hill. For thousands of years people had climbed its steps to discover the secret of existence.
The secret was that they had been climbing steps.
The birds knew this already.
They flew around without building temples or writing complicated books about the importance of flying.
The Upright Meaning
Sunday is the card of illumination without ambition.
It represents the strange possibility that happiness does not need to be earned, purchased, defended, or explained to a committee.
The sun shines on saints and parking meters with equal enthusiasm.
The sleeping dog represents trust. The sunflowers represent the peculiar intelligence of turning toward something beautiful without demanding that it explain itself.
The open arms mean surrender, but not defeat.
There is a difference.
The Reversed Meaning
When Sunday appears upside down, it means you've mistaken resting for wasting time.
You are trying to accomplish relaxation.
You have made a list of things to do in order to become spontaneous.
Somewhere inside your head, a small bureaucrat is stamping forms authorizing you to enjoy the afternoon.
Fire him.
The Oracle
The woman finally opened her eyes.
The sun was still there.
The dog was still sleeping.
Nothing had been accomplished, and the universe was functioning beautifully without her supervision.
She smiled.
Perhaps enlightenment was nothing more than discovering that existence had never asked you to fill out a time sheet.
And Sunday, that magnificent golden accident, continued forever for approximately twenty-four hours.