Those days come around every now and again, when I can think gratitude, but not feel the beat in my heart that makes the day more of a dance than a march. Recently I had just such a day. When the skies shimmer and shadows make an appearance, I find myself searching for the warmth of the sun spots. Easing into a deck chair, I allow contentment to create an inner space for thinking through whatever is clouding my perspective. On this particular day my eyes shift from the Blue Ridge Mountain peaks to a humbling spectrum of blues creating the canvas.
Surely it IS enough to simply gaze, appreciate, and let the heavens silently grace my disposition with awe. However, I am pulled by deeper longing to communicate an appreciative connection to that which feels bigger than me, than self. For me, finding the words is an expression of Love. With a writer’s compulsion I struggle to recreate awe through words.
I do not have an artist’s eye nor the immediate ability to describe a dab of this color and brush of that shade to recreate the dome some call a portal to heaven. I begin making my acquaintance by playing with blues I can call by name: baby blue, deep sky blue, cornflower blue, electric blue, indigo blue, lavender blue (that one from a nursery rhyme), royal blue, blue violet, turquoise, and true blue. Once the game begins there are sports blues (Carolina, Duke, or Brandeis; uniform blues (Dodgers, Royal Air Force, and the Navy), flowers, jewels, and paint chips. To identify the sky spectrum I am directed to discover the variations of azure, from a pale pastel tint called cyan to the dark shades of lapis lazuli.
A mid-day southern sky, blistering bright, is draped in baby blue; a slight turn to the west and there a brilliant cast of Mayan blue, reminiscent of an ancient civilization. A day of breath-taking blues unfurls like the flags of many nations, white sheets stretched between Honolulu blue and Bleu de France. On other days the skies are cloudless displays of ocean blue, or the pale pastel tints of soothing azure. Nearing sunset, I may see the sky bejeweled with sapphire blue or lapis lazuli.
Days pass that I am not aware of this protective dome, and the numerous displays of glory it creates. Yet any single day the sky subtly influences the drama of my day- my mood, habits, events, conversations, predictions, recollections – the sky is a happening place. Sky gazing takes on a new meaning for me, an assurance of presence that offers endless variations of change, a reminder that every single day is an opportunity for a new creation. The beauty and magnificence of the universe is easily accessible as a source of peace, joy, calm, a portal for lifting the spirit, changing my vision for the day. Right there through the window, a step outside my door. “Blue skies, nothing but blue skies.”