My dad used to shout “Rise and shine!” when he wanted to put some spirit into his wake-up call, and recently I’ve been saying those words to myself occasionally. The world, I’m noticing, is always ready to rise and shine, and is actually doing it on a second-to-second basis. Each passing moment rises up out of somewhere and shines in its astonishing way, and every day, no matter how dull it seems, is absolutely rosy with newness. Nothing happens anywhere that hasn’t arisen from the boundless, shimmering universe we’re all part of. I saw it today -- the way winter sunlight sparkles in slightly different ways as the seconds pass, the way a wish can spring up in my mind in a matter of milliseconds, the way water at the fountain always flows in fresh ways. I guess I don’t have to try to rise and shine, because all of creation, including me, is doing it steadily and rather enthusiastically. The blood in my body rises with freshness to all my cells unceasingly, and my lungs let in new air, over and over, like morning lets in the sunshine. As I type these words, pieces of dust are rising in the latest ways beside the windows, and these letters are actually shining on the screen as I tap the keys. Expanding and sparkling always, the universe continues on its way, with me and my late father as lucky, rising-and-shining passengers.