Nikki, Brett and I made our way to the tip of our grassy mound at the top of the canyon, laughing, and happily anticipating the one minute mark of our gazing adventure. One minute would be a milestone, a point along the journey worth celebrating, and a gift. We were so involved in our own excitement that we made our way to our cactus covered corner of earth without so much as a the slightest whisper of a jist that the sky was covered in dirty grey cotton rain makers. As the minutes ticked by and began crawling toward 7:00 am we realized we were being stood up. The clouds had gathered in the night and conspired to hide the sun from our view this morning behind a think, unyielding wall of smog.
I was disappointed more out of habit because you are supposed to get disappointed when you don’t get what you were expecting like this than out of any real feeling of dissatisfaction. It was a feeling of disappointment in name only. Kind of like how Elizabeth Windsor rules England in name only. She has no real power and my disappointment had no real power either. The three of us were laughing and singing ditty’s as we danced carefully around the cacti and hoped in vein for a parting of the clouds. What is going to happen if we miss a day? What will we do on cloudy days in the future? Will I find a way to stare past blocks of city at sunset, or do I call a mulligan and just go for a minute and ten seconds tomorrow? As these questions swirled around inside I felt a feeling of sensational bliss. There was no panic. There was no need to actually answer these questions. We are on an adventure and I heard somewhere before that an adventure isn’t really an adventure if everything goes just how you plan. I felt like Indiana Jones. We didn’t even get to stare today, but the act of making my way to the mound, and yearning for the suns burning called the giddiness toward me yet again. As we walked back to our car, with the minute of gazing still out if front of us waiting to be achieved, I found myself feeling as victorious as I would have if my eyes had feasted on yellow rays for 60 seconds. I didn’t get to look deep into the suns’ eyes today, but somehow, even without the face to face, it’s energy had reached me, as if it had sent me a letter of regret that it couldn’t be there in person, but wished me well anyhow. I’m starting to realize that even if I can’t see it, the sun is always looking at me, kid.
SIDE EFFECTS: Clouds exist and have no regard for the schedules of human beings.
BENEFITS: The sun is stronger than clouds.