We Do It All The Time

I remember one year, it was late December and Maine had some freakishly warm weather along the southern coast, so my wife and I went for a swim. The bone-aching Atlantic felt more heated than the air because our reference had drastically changed and that distinction allowed us to immerse ourselves several times.

Several days ago, I opened the house windows, and even though the temperature was 84ºF with 60% humidity, I felt relief. Relieved, because for the past several weeks it was hotter and more humid with the AC on, however, although it was comfortable, the air was stale, but the birds couldn’t be heard welcoming the dawn, nor the crickets humming their hypnotic evening lullaby.

Yesterday’s weather forecast was dismal, but we packed the car up anyway and headed for the Brunswick Outdoor Art Festival. Saturday’s festival was the one-year anniversary of Soul Path Art, or as displayed on the tent banner, thesoulpathartist.com, and the return to our first show; Larissa and I felt excited to go. Rather than resent an early rise, then getting sweaty which I find unavoidable when it is humid, I imagined Zephryus with Satchmo cheeks blowing that storm away, and the pitiless skies gave way to a cerulean expanse and the people came.

Change is unavoidable, and it underlies everything we do. We trust the sun will return as the light dims and our imaginations take flight. I awake and at that moment when dreams have not faded, and before Helios alights the horizon, my being knows no pain, and I welcome the new day.

Jeff Bailey © 2018