Who critiques a sunset?
Carl Rogers in one of his many valuable works titled A Way of Being introduces this idea surrounding the splendor of a sunset and as I was recently re reading this book from my early graduate school years, I recalled my exact feelings all those years ago. Let me explain!
I can be pretty nit-picky—whether it’s about the weather, home décor, or my go-to smoothie at Smoothie King—but I’ve never criticized a sunset. A sunset exists for pure enjoyment. It is one of the few things in today’s world that is truly uncontrollable and spontaneous. Yes, it tends to show up around the same time each evening, but its presentation is always unique. Its colors, its glow—each one a daily reminder of the infinite power of life that surrounds us and the tiny speck of control we actually have.
I find this both exhilarating and terrifying.
In a society built around planning and predictability—from daily groceries to budgeting for a once-a-year vacation—we often find ourselves chasing a sense of order: searching endlessly for the best deals, routines, or systems to soften life’s unknowns. But the world doesn’t always make it easy to be “easygoing.”
Sometimes, the world is cruel in its irony.
I’ve sat with people who have “done all the right things”—who invested thousands in preventative care—only to be told they have a genetic cancer they hoped to avoid. I’ve sat with women who poured their retirement funds into fertility treatments, only to still face empty cribs. Then, just hours later, I sit with a teenager who’s terrified after learning of an unplanned pregnancy.
Control? It slips right through our fingers.
When people learn I’m a therapist, they often assume I spend my days immersed in sorrow, asking: “How do you just listen to people’s problems all day?” Even I get tired of the quotation marks. What I want to say is: How can you live a life without this?
I find my work to be one of the most privileged aspects of my life. To sit beside someone in their grief, in their fear or transition—that is an honor. Yes, it's hard. But the challenges pale in comparison to the power of the therapeutic relationship. In some ways, I think of the therapy room as its own kind of sunset. Predictable in timing—yes, we know when the appointment will begin and end—but spontaneous in spirit. Every session flows differently. Every emotion, like every cloud formation or color streak, has its moment.
The world can be cruel, unfair, and unkind. That is truth. We may never understand the “why,” no matter how hard we try. But rather than see this as defeat, I offer a suggestion: pause the inner chaos (not easy, I know), and go outside around 5–6pm.
Look up.
Notice how something so effortless on your end—just going outside—can shift something inside. Watch how the colors of the sunset seem to represent different feelings or memories. Some colors may be bold, dominant—like grief or anger—making it feel like they’ll last forever. But they don’t. They fade. Another color comes next.
The feelings, like the colors, change.
This too shall pass.
And it’s within the sunset that I find the greatest peace during my most chaotic seasons.
-Dr. C
Want to Go Deeper?
Here are a few helpful resources if this topic resonates with you:
- “The Gifts of Imperfection” by Brené Brown – A powerful read on embracing vulnerability and letting go of the need for control.
- David Kessler’s work on grief – Especially Finding Meaning: The Sixth Stage of Grief, which expands on Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s classic five stages.
- “Radical Acceptance” by Tara Brach – Offers insight on how mindfulness and compassion help us soften control and meet life as it is.
- APA Article: “The paradox of control”– A thoughtful exploration into our psychological relationship with control.
- Research Study: Bonanno, G. A. (2004). 'Loss, trauma, and human resilience: Have we underestimated the human capacity to thrive after extremely aversive events?' American Psychologist, 59(1), 20–28. – A foundational paper on resilience in the face of loss and unpredictability.
