“The Sun Will Rise Again: A Reflection on Energy, Renewal, and Hope”

There’s something magical about the sun. Not just in the way it paints the morning sky with streaks of gold and fire—or how it warms our skin after a long winter—but in the quiet way it brings us back to life.

This week, I hit a wall. You know the kind—when your brain is foggy, your to-do list grows faster than you can check things off, and your heart just feels... flat. I was moving through the motions—answering emails, attending meetings, checking in with students, trying to stay present—but internally, I was on empty. I wasn’t tired. I was drained.

So I did what I don’t do often enough. I stopped. I walked outside in the early morning, no phone, no agenda, just barefoot on the grass with five corgis darting around, chasing invisible squirrels and barking at the wind. I tilted my head back, closed my eyes, and stood in stillness as the first rays of sunlight broke over the treetops.

There was no grand awakening. No bolt of inspiration. Just the soft, slow warmth of light moving over my face and shoulders. It was enough.

We forget that we’re solar-powered too. Not in the scientific sense, but in the soul-deep sense. The sun grounds us. It reminds us that endings aren’t always permanent. That growth still happens in quiet, unseen ways. That even after the coldest, darkest stretches of life, something as steady and certain as the sunrise can begin to thaw us.

It made me think about all the seasons we go through—the winters of our spirit when everything feels paused and heavy, the stormy seasons where everything feels chaotic, and then these rare, radiant mornings when light gently nudges us back to ourselves.

And the truth is—sometimes the most healing thing we can do is nothing at all. Sometimes the act of being is enough. Sitting still. Letting the sun hit your face. Breathing. Watching the world slowly wake up and realizing you're allowed to do the same.

The sun doesn’t demand we leap out of bed and seize the day. It simply shows up. Consistently. Quietly. Powerfully. And it invites us to do the same.

So if you're running low—emotionally, physically, spiritually—I hope you give yourself permission to pause. Step outside. Watch the way the sun breaks through the clouds. Let it remind you that even the smallest sliver of light can cut through the deepest darkness.

And even on the days when the sun hides behind clouds, it’s still there—just as your energy, your purpose, your light is still there, waiting to be restored.

Let the sun do what it does best. Let it rise. And trust that you will too.

With warmth and light,
—Dr. Nick ☀️