For a fleeting few seconds at the sunrise the windows of the building to the west of mine reflect the striking mauve glow on things on my coffee table. This picture was taken about ten minutes ago in the resplendent sunlight.
Speaking of light, it is not the purpose of the Sun to create light. Light is just an incidental product of all that goes on at its core where hydrogen is being converted into helium via nuclear fusion.
This constant conversion of hydrogen to helium under a temperature of 15 million Kelvins a pressure 200 billion times what there is on Earth's surface releases a great deal of energy, including light. This energy in the form of light bounces around the Sun's core for a very long time--likely between 10,000 years and 170,000 years. What I saw this morning or see any morning could have been generated any time during that time frame. Add to that eight minutes it takes to travel from its surface to us. The point is the Sun is not creating its light for you and I. It is a byproduct of its thermonuclear fusion.
You may find it weird but these are always the thoughts when I see the Sun every morning. A particular photon that hit my face was created at the very least 10,000 years before I was born. The least I could do is to acknowledge its harrowing journey from the Sun's core to me on any given morning. Not doing it makes me feels ingrate.
On a tangent Buddh's profound idea about Kshanika or momentariness, which holds that everything in the universe is from moment to moment to moment and what lies between those moments is emptiness, came to my mind while taking this picture. Photons are moments to moments to moments that to us seem seamlessly stitched. Think about that.