There are days in which we walk outside, we look above and see a ceiling of clouds as far as our eyes can see. We look up, we see gray, we see white, we see a solid wall of dull and drab 'nothing'. If we didn't know any better we would assume that this wall is a wall comprised of the most sturdy material known to man. Nothing could break past this wall, look how massive and cumbersome and heavy it looks... And if nothing could break down this wall, then certainly nothing could possibly exist beyond it. If this wall of clouds really is as strong and rigid and unchangeable as it seems, then how was it only yesterday that we could swear it wasn't there at all? But it's certainly there now and it seems so... permanent. When the clouds are spread so thick, that not even the slightest patch of blue sky or hint of the Sun can be seen, and it feels so cold because there is no direct warmth touching our skin, we tend to forget that there really is something beyond that wall of clouds... and that that wall isn't so permanent after all.
Yes, if we are lucky, we realize we do know better. We know that on the other side of this intimidating wall there is a brilliant blue sky. And that azure blue sky is lit with a blazing orange red Sun that is so bright you cannot stare into it's heart for too long without it taking away part of your own vision. The sky seems so impossibly endless... as though even if we wanted to find the end of the blue line, we know wouldn't be able to really discover it. And it's all there, right behind those clouds. Every day, even days in which we can't see it with our own eyes, the Sun lazily wanders around it's home in the delicious blue sky and eventually comes to that line, where it takes it's light and warmth away for a while. It's warming blaze, this life providing light, is the reason for which I am able to type and that you are able to read. The Sun, and the blue sky which reflects the tremendous bodies of water on our planet, are the reasons for which we are able to 'be'. It's that simple and easy. The sun shines, the clouds gather and release water... and we are able to be.
How we 'be' though, is not as simple. For often times, we look around ourselves and feel a wall that seems much the same as those clouds above. We feel as though this wall in front of us is dull and drab and sturdy and permanent. We don't quite remember when it appeared but we cannot deny it's presence now. And oh man, it looks heavy and built to prevail against any force placed upon it. Since it seems so sturdy, obviously nothing can get past it. Even the slightest bit of warmth... from a touch, a feeling, a thought, a sound, a moment, a memory... nothing is getting through this thing. And if this wall is as strong as it seems then nothing could possibly exist beyond it, right?
Sometimes we find ourselves thinking or feeling as though we are trapped beneath or behind a massive wall. Maybe we are now shadows of who we once were or faded hopes of the person we wanted to become. How did it happen so fast? Why did it take so long? We look back and remember... could it be that the best days are the ones that have already happened? And if that's true, don't we wish we could go back and tell ourselves to remember them more vividly? We look forward and dream... promise ourselves that tomorrow I will start to be the person I have always wanted to be. And this time, I'm really going to do it. Now, if only that stupid wall would just go away so that I can move forward... move through... move beyond. But it just becomes so difficult... Maybe this wall really is as solid as it seems.
I was on a flight last week from DC to Pittsburgh. Puddle jumper of a plane that departed around 4:30pm. In DC, they were still feeling the effects of the storm that iced Atlanta, and it was damn cold on the ground. There was nothing up above, solid white and gray. As the plane took off, the magical city of our Nation's Capitol even seemed dull and drab. I put my earphones in, opened my book and was ready to forget I had a window seat. As we climbed in elevation, there was turbulence as we entered the massive wall of clouds. It was rough enough for me to have to put down my fantastic book (In the Hand of Dante by Nick Tosches) and peer out the window.
I saw nothing. It was solid white. Then, we climbed through the last tip of the clouds and were now flying above them. It was a sight I hope I never forget. I felt as though I were in a painting, looking around at the handiwork of an acclaimed artist. And ultimately, I guess I was. If you didn't know any better, it could have been a sea snow drifts, could have been a big bowl of Cool Whip, could have been a bunch of cotton balls glued to an endless piece of paper. Even more brilliant than the home of the Care Bears, was the sky, the deliciously blue and immensely large sky. And above those clouds, and in that brilliant blue sky... was the Sun. Right at sundown too, when the Sun was approaching the horizon. The sight was so intense that you couldn't look away. Blazing orange red sun, sitting in the throne of the blue sky and fluffy clouds, so clear and so brilliant... I stared so long that it actually hurt my poor eyes... but I just couldn't look away.
I realized what I was looking at... and how lucky I truly was. For I was looking at what exists above the clouds, beyond the wall. And that the wall isn't so permanent after all. I just flew through it. It wasn't smooth and it wasn't pretty, but what that wall stands in front of... is. What was dull and drab just below is beautiful and gorgeous just above. This was the sight I needed to see with my own eyes to awaken my own mind of a world that can and does exist. It exists not only outside but also within. This was the hope I needed to recapture - the view from above the clouds.
And so it goes...
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