Tuesday, June 16, 2015
I attend plays and movies, hoping to be entertained, to find an ah ha experience. I travel to natural places-- Yosemite, the beach, the hills along hiking trails, expecting to have a catch to my breath, a feeling of that's-it, that's cool. I look up into the sky and notice the blueness of the blue. At sunrise and sunset I look for the pinks, the shades of red and orange. I look down as I walk and see the grooves in the sidewalk, the ruts and cracks in the blacktop, the bending of the blades of grass, the rabbit droppings, the feathers of birds. All looking for anticipated awe. Disappointed when it doesn't stand out, feeling humbled when it does. Anticipation of awe keeps me on the edge of appreciation.
Yet sometimes I forget to be that observer. I'm driving here or there, I'm walking to that place, the place I need to go, and my mind is spinning and I'm paying attention to the going, not the being. And on one such of those days I was chagrined to have missed the light and there I sat next to the big rig carrying smashed cardboard boxes. This light is a lengthy light at a major intersection. I exhaled the anger and turned to look up. I noticed the flattened boxes, stacked and bound with a kind of twine. I wondered about their destination. I marveled at the order on the truck. My gaze dropped to the truck tires so close to me. Goodyear. Were they new or introduced to tire black? I saw the lug nuts and rims, polished, shining. This driver took pride in his rig, I thought. The baby moon hubcaps attracted me last. I briefly thought of a blue car I had in the 70's that sported baby moon hubcaps. I looked closer and saw the reflection of my car centered within the hubcap. I grabbed my phone and turned on the camera, setting up the shot in an instant just before the truck began to move. One of my favorite serendipitous shots ever. I found unanticipated awe in the hubcap of a big rig. The edge of appreciation is in the living of life. Awe some!