It’s a beautiful Minnesota day today. They seem rare this time of year. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, and people are smiling. It’s an easy day.
My barista asked me, “What’s good?” When I stopped and paused she said, “It’s a philosophical question…” I was relatively quick to then say, “It’s a beautiful day.” But I quickly adjusted my statement, “I love crisp cold days, days when I can see my breath.” An hour later, I had a similar conversation with my client and offered a similar adjustment. “Once I’m wet, one of my favorite things to do is walk in the rain.” My client’s eyes perked up and she responded, “When I was young, that was one of my favorite things as well.”
What is that?
When the temp is tepid, the wind is light, the sun is shining but not too bright. Life is easy but somehow… I loose sight.
When the rain is falling, the wind is howling, and the temp is plummeting it’s all so stunningly clear. I know I’m alive. Resistance brings clarity.
Resistance brings clarity. Hmm…
What is that?
For year’s my friend and I would meet every Tuesday night to ride our bikes. It was always dark. That was a given. Sometimes it would rain or sleet. The amazing thing is, he would always show up. I guess it’s equally amazing that I would show up too. The look of an apprehensive defeat in both of our eyes, somehow welcome.
It was always hard to step outside. Knowing that first uncomfortable drip of water would soon find its way down the small of my back and the wet would soon seep into my shoes. Somehow, surprised, I would always recoil. Onward, we would pedal into the night. Once wet, our heads were giddily held high. My bright light reflecting off of the falling rain and mist pouring from my friend’s jersey. We were unstoppable. Somehow, feeling like the luckiest guys in the world. Like we were getting away with something. These were always the best rides. We would say, “if our fare weather friends only knew.”
What is this?
I remember so clearly the night I walked with my friend around the lake. That night was unique. It wasn’t quite raining but a bit more than a mist. I was beaming, transmitting, transcendent… The rain fell around me and I never got wet. We had almost nothing to say and yet, I remember that walk like it was yesterday.
What is this?
I’ve frozen my face to the point I had ice forming and dripping from my bare cheek. I’ve ridden my bike with gloves that were too thin in temperatures that were too cold. I’ve hiked for hours in the alps, walked the pitchy path to Machu Picchu, and hiked the Scottish highlands in the soaking rain. I remember them all like it’s happening this moment.
So sweet and strangely unique…
I wonder if I’ll remember today?
This beautiful, sun shiny day.
