Spring is on the way, and the weather can’t seem to make up its mind. Bright blue sky is suddenly replaced by dark storm clouds. The sun shines in the midst of a rain squall. The trees sway violently in the wind and then find themselves standing at attention as things quiet down. And sometimes, when the weather ducks line up, a rainbow appears as a result of sunlight and atmospheric conditions. That familiar colorful arch in the sky, the one that takes our breath away every time, reminds us that the world is not black and white, but a broad spectrum of colors. That it’s not either this or that, but this, that, and everything in between. The rainbow doesn’t replace the dark clouds, it exists with, and even because of them.
Lately, my interior landscape feels a lot like the rapidly changing weather conditions that I encounter when I step outside. Joyful and hopeful (ish) one minute, melancholy and discouraged the next. Sad. Happy. Angry. Calm. Anxious. Relaxed. Lonely. Connected. Invisible. Seen. It is my tendency to make too much of each of them, making it difficult to welcome all of them. Dark clouds. We’re all doomed. Bright sunshine. Maybe not. Strong winds. I may be blown off course. Gentle breeze. I can rest easy. If not careful, I slam my guest house door shut and live with whatever just blew in, rather that welcoming what might be close behind.
We didn’t evolve to live in a stable, controlled environment. We’re made of tougher stuff than that, able to not just withstand the elements, but to dance with them. To reflect the light, interact with the storms, and wind up a rainbow.
