The sun is always there. If I'm not seeing it, I'm looking at something else, something between me and it. Maybe the sky is cloudy, or I'm in the house watching TV or making dinner. Or maybe it's nighttime and I've got the whole earth between me and the sun. Or maybe I'm just busy, planning out some important strategy. Or nursing a grudge. What I usually forget, though, is that even though I don't see it, the sun is always there.
I have various solutions, however. I've discovered that I can hike up a mountain and get above the clouds. Wow! Or I can travel someplace where the sun is more visible, like Arizona or New Mexico. Or if that's too much trouble, I can surround myself with artificial light, like candles and campfires and incandescent tubes. Or even music or fine art, if I want to get metaphorical about it. And sometimes this seems to help.
But on some level I know that what I really want is the sun, and it saddens me that I don't see it more than I do. I keep forgetting that it's always there. No matter what I do or where I go, it's always there, and there's nothing I or anyone else can do to change that. There's a certain comfort in this thought.