Sun Worship

Do you remember the episode of the “original” Star Trek series, where they are visiting a planet with a developing, pre-modern, civilization that worships the sun?  At the end, the key cast members are discussing how the civilization seems too “advanced” to be sun worshipers, and Uhura says something like “I think they are worshiping the son not the sun….”   That’s an aside and my post has nothing to do with religion.  I’ll be talking about the sun here, that shiny, hot, yellow (sometimes red, pink, or orange) fire ball that holds the earth in place. 

In the past few months I have felt like I have some symptoms of seasonal affective disorder, acronym SAD.  Every cloudy, rainy, or snowy day, when the sun rarely or never shows, I feel down, or SAD.  Most sunny days I feel better.  I’m wondering if this is due to the prednisone or to the grief, or whether it is a combination of both, or more (like not keeping busy enough, and not being able to take my walks).  I can’t remember those SAD feelings being as defined or weather-determined in past years.  Today is at least starting out sunny, even though quite cold, and it is wondrous and beautiful.  I feel “up” and ready to go. 

It seems strange that I would be a sun worshiper because I have sun intolerant skin.  I hated my blue white skin (yuck - veins showing through) when I was a teenager (now I have age spots, so it doesn’t seem as blue).  My friends would lay out in the sun at the NJ shore, rubbing themselves with baby oil, and have a nice tan by the end of the day.  I would lay out in the sun, slathered in that same baby oil, that they promised would help me tan better than Coppertone (which only helped me burn because it was well before the advent of sun screen).  I would end up sick as a dog later in the day, with blisters the size of my fist on the back of my thighs (yes, I’m a great candidate for skin cancer).  In a week or so huge sheets of skin would peel – how fun.  My mother had the same sensitive skin.  When I was a tiny child, and my family went to the shore, she would always be under the big umbrella, with long sleeves.  She covered us with pancake makeup to protect our skin - so I could play in the sun and go into the water.  I was the only kid happily playing while slathered in orange waterproof goo, with sand stuck all over me.  Now I’m one of the only people at Lake Powell, out on the lake on a beautiful sunny day, with white light-weight long sleeves and light-weight long pants tucked into socks, with every square inch of exposed skin (including my fabric covered arms and legs) covered in frequently applied sun screen.  BTW, I don’t use a “high protection number” sun screen – I find that applying 15 protection every hour, or more, works much better for me. 

I’m one of those “burn and peel” people who should probably live in Seattle or another cloudy and rainy city.  I know I’d hate it there.  Here I am in my own personal paradise where the sun shines a lot (hence our solar panels), with sun-useless skin, and I’m an "emotional" sun worshiper, dreading those few days when I’m SAD because I can’t see the sun.  Thank heavens for sun screen!