Why the Sun Hides Before a Storm – A Mythical Tale of Love and Balance
Beloved, once upon a time—long before cities, forests, and deserts shaped the land—there lived a child not so different from you. The world was young, untouched, and full of wonder. The skies were as blue and brilliant as a robin’s egg, and there was nothing but soft golden sands stretching far and wide. There were no trees to shade, no mountains to climb—just open space for the child to run, laugh, and live freely.
At the edge of this wide land stretched the deep, blue ocean—gentle, clear, and sweet. Yes, sweet! For in those days, the sea was not salty but fresh and drinkable. The waves would come and greet the child every morning like a faithful friend, urging the child to dance and play. The fish would swim near the shore, offering themselves as food, and the waters sparkled under the ever-watchful gaze of the Sun.
The Sun adored the child. Each morning, she rose with joy, shining brightly to keep the child warm, safe, and seen. And the child, just like you, was full of humor and curiosity. The child loved to play and tease.
One bright morning, the mischievous child stood at the edge of the waves and said playfully, “Dear Sun, dear Sea—I think you should have a contest to prove who is the best playmate for me!”
Now, both the Sun and the Sea loved the child dearly. The Sea, eager to win favor, stirred itself into great waves. He danced and spun the child around with gentle yet powerful surges, lifting the child and placing them safely back upon the sand. The child squealed with delight, bouncing in the foamy surf. But in his enthusiasm, the Sea grew a bit reckless—pounding against nearby rocky cliffs until chunks broke off and dissolved into the water, turning it salty for the very first time.
Eventually, the child, now wrinkled and salty from too much play, stepped out of the sea, tired and dazed.
Not to be outdone, the Sun beamed even more brightly. She wrapped the child in her warmth, drying off every drop and turning shivers into comfort. The child giggled and twirled, energized by the heat and light. But the Sun grew jealous. She wanted the child’s laughter to be hers alone. Her rays became relentless, so intense that the child began to sweat and feel discomfort under her powerful gaze.
Seeing the child unhappy, the Sea once again churned with excitement, inviting the child back—but the child had grown tired of games. Determined to regain attention, the Sea pounded harder at the rocks, breaking them into the soft grains we now know as beach sand.
The gods, watching the growing rivalry, grew concerned. Nature was beginning to suffer from this loving competition. So, they called upon Sophrosyne, the goddess of moderation and balance, to restore harmony.
First, she spoke to the Sea. “Twice a day, you may roar with strength and show your might,” she said, “but you must also give the child peace. Let your waves rise and fall—this will be known as the tides.”
Then she turned to the Sun. “You, too, must rest. Each day, you will shine only for half the time, allowing the child to sleep and recover. During your slumber, the Moon shall rise.”
But the Sun, sorrowful at the thought of leaving the child, found a new purpose. She began to watch the Moon in admiration and, to comfort herself during those long nights away, she scattered her tears across the sky—creating the twinkling stars to keep watch over the child.
When the Sea discovered this, he cried foul. “The Sun has cheated! She found a way to stay with the child at night!”
Ever fair, Sophrosyne granted the Sea an extra gift—the power of rain. “Whenever you miss the child, you may rise up to the sky and fall as rain. But beware, you must never hurt the child.”
Embarrassed that the Sea could now be with the child even from the sky, the Sun began to hide herself behind clouds every time the Sea prepared a storm. And that, Beloved, is why the Sun hides before a storm.
“What’s that?” you ask. “Why does it sometimes rain while the sun is still shining?”
Ah, wise question. It happens rarely, but sometimes—just sometimes—the Sun and the Sea cannot bear to be apart. For a brief moment, they exist in harmony, shining and falling together, united in their love for the child. When this happens, the gods smile, and from their joy, grasses grow, flowers bloom, trees stretch skyward, and fruits ripen.
But in the places where the Sun or the Sea grows too greedy—like in deserts or swamps—little can survive. So remember, Beloved: balance is what brings beauty to the world.
And the next time you see sunlight glinting on the rain, or stars winking in the sky, know this—you are loved, just as the child was, by the Sun, the Sea, and all the gods who watch over the world.
Moral of the Story:
True love does not compete—it balances. Beauty and life flourish where harmony and moderation exist.
