Stopping For Rainbows

A few years ago, I took a roadtrip from Denver to SanFrancisco. After a visit in the bay area with friends, I was on my way back to Colorado. Driving through Utah I encountered torrential rain, thunder, and lightening that sparked the most breathtaking double rainbow I had ever seen.

I pulled off the highway onto the shoulder to take a few photos and sit awhile to fully experience the magical moment. The Toyota vibrated with the movement of traffic whizzing by and I found myself unable to re-enter the stream of traffic. I did not trust my ability to judge the distance and speed of the oncoming cars. Plus, my vehicle lacked pep...so I waited. I waited until the coast was entirely clear so that I could ease back into the flow and continue on my journey without getting killed.

I had lost more than an hour of driving time and found myself reaching the higher altitudes as sun set. Pretty soon the rains began again. The white-knuckle drive on a totally dark winding two-lane highway appeared to have no end in sight until I noticed a few trucks parked off the road. I joined the pack and tried to sleep in the backseat with a small blanket that did not quite keep me warm that cold night. It was scary and uncomfortable.

The next morning was fresh and still as dawn broke and I was back on the road without rain and darkness for an effortless journey across sunny Wyoming and down to Denver.

The wheel of life symbolizes the samsaric nature of existence...the circular cyclic movement of life through birth, suffering, sickness, old age, death. It's really not THAT bad, but I have noticed that the momentum of the turning wheel of our daily life feels so familiar that stepping off for awhile can be quite disorienting and groundless...also liberating.

Leaving the flow of traffic that afternoon in Utah was like stepping off the wheel. Leaving the familiar world of life and work in Denver to move to Buffalo also has been a step off the wheel.

The rainbow photos from that afternoon in Utah were unimpressive. Had I resisted the urge to stop that day in the rain, I would have passed through the rainbow and the mountains without event. The drama of the moment would not have welded itself into a shape.....no story, no metaphor, no inspiration. I need shapes.

Six Degrees Of Separation

Ever since President Lyndon Johnson waved to me and my friend, Peggy, while visiting the White House in 1965, I have found myself intersecting in remote ways with well-known others. Yet I remain in sync with Emily Dickinson's poem...."I am nobody. Who are you. Are you a nobody too?"

Received a telephone call from Kathleen last night. She was up late painting in her studio on the Amalfi coast of Italy. During the two-hour conversation, topics were abundant. She told me about her new favorite activity...beach badminton and volleyball. She also described the 10 x 10 foot painting she had just completed...a single red rose commissioned by Valentino (yeah, the designer guy). He was happy with the commission and brought her one of his high-end red leather handbags. Although, she cares little about such things. Her work in Africa as a United Nations field director is fascinating, as are her political views.

Our talk went from genocide and Chinese oil interests to cancer, dead boyfriends, the simple life. The $7.00 a gallon cost of gas in Italy does not cause huge concern since the people there drive scooters, smart cars, and ride the train to Rome.

Kathleen is an inspiration. Three years ago she was a recent cancer survivor, living a semi-retirement lifestyle in Arizona with her boyfriend, John, who once played drums with The Dave Mason Band...then lived out another career as a mailman who tinkered in his woodshop and golfed. Instead of retiring, they have reinvented themselves by moving to a quaint Italian village and getting married. John moved on into another career as an industrial designer. Kathleen sells her paintings and returned to the work she loved twenty years ago......serving the UN with sustainable development projects.

Six degrees of separation finds the collage of my life taking shape on the less-than-glamorous Lake Erie Coast of Buffalo. The ongoing process of engaging with the world and creating a life is much the same no matter where I am.