September 24, 2011 § Leave a comment
I saw a rainbow yesterday on the way home. Atop one of the many flyovers I had to navigate, in the midst of the smog-stricken city, there it was. It hadn’t even rained, or maybe I didn’t witness it. What’s a rainbow to me nowadays, anyway? Years ago, rainbows were priceless sightings. If there was a rainbow, you’d call everyone around you by yelling “rainbow” and everyone would look up the sky and express fascination. This was particularly cool when I was in preschool. In the middle of class, if someone was lucky enough to spy it from the window, he or she would yell the call and we’d all go rushing to the window to saw “woooah” with wide eyes. My classmate, who discovered our ballpoint pens’ body could diffract light and produce a rainbow, moved up one rung in the 4-year old social ladder the day she told us about it. When I saw the rainbow yesterday, for a split-second of a moment, I felt a lurch of excitement in me. I couldn’t stare at it as much as I wanted to, I would have plunged to death that very moment if I didn’t keep my eyes on the winding road. But even if the magic wasn’t there as much as it was before, I still felt the rainbow promise me something. That even in the midst of bad things, there can be something good. Good can exist, wherever. It was going to be a good day.
But it was a good day yesterday. :)
This one’s from Tom Robbins’ Still Life With Woodpecker. David told me about the book and I wouldn’t have read it had I not wandered into Powerbooks one lazy afternoon and spot it with a eureka moment “so this is the book!”, The man is a genius. I love him now more than Joseph Heller. Oh, but I think I laughed more with Heller. But Robbins made much more sense.:)
When the mystery of the connection goes, love goes. It’s that simple. This suggests that it isn’t love that is so important to us but the mystery itself. The love connection may be merely a device to put us in contact with the mystery, and we long for love to last so that the ecstasy of being near the mystery will last. It is contrary to the nature of mystery to stand still. Yet it’s always there, somewhere, a world on the other side of the mirror (or the Camel pack), a promise in the next pair of eyes that smile at us. We glimpse it when WE stand still.