watering lawns, climbing mountains, and rainbows

Today started out not so good.  I woke up, prepared to be productive and...NOPE.  Headache attack.  So I did what I knew I should, and took a nap.  Commence Epic dream where I saved the world from a terrorist plane-jacker and ended up being a female version of Captain America.  It was intense.

The nap ended up being a good idea.  Hannah came home from work (aka playing in a garden with children like Little House on the Prairie) and we hugged.  Basically.  Then I watered the lawn.  Which, of course, led to epic thoughts.  So there I was, watering a large lawn with an old-fashioned hose, absentmindedly using my thumb and forefinger to get the water to spray the appropriate length and width.  And I started thinking...what if I didn't just know how to do that?  What if I had grown up in a place where we didn't have water hoses, and had never had the need to know how to get the water to shoot the appropriate distance?  Chances are, I would look very silly walking around the lawn, letting the water drizzle out of the hose at it's predetermined pace.  This is when I realized: this is the epitome of cultural difference.  We assume that everyone knows how to place their finger to get the appropriate stream of water.  So what are the things that other people assume about us?  What is the equivalent of watering the lawn in other countries, cultures, and communities?  But seriously.

Fast forward.  I decided I needed to get out and move a bit, so I found a trail about a block away from Hannah's house and climbed a mountain.  What a fabulous choice.  The flatirons in Boulder are nothing short of heightened green masterpieces, and the landscape around them is equally as gorgeous.  It felt so good to get out and moving.  And then, on top of the mountain, I was actually able to get some work done.  My mind was so clear that what would normally have taken me a few hours took a matter of minutes.

Walking back down the mountain, clouds of Mordor were quickly approaching.  Shortly after I began my descent, it started to sprinkle.  And then rain.  And then DUMP.  By the time I made it back to the house, it was pouring, and I was drenched- with water, and happiness.  Just minutes later, the sun came out, resulting in a double rainbow, clouds of death, and a breathtaking sunset behind mountains and filtered clouds.  It was, in short, AMAZING.

Today, I realized something: In our moments of despair, it is essential to focus on what is important.  And that, more often than not, is our trajectory.  It is not where we are in a given moment, but rather the path we are on.  What is really important is not our circumstances, but who we are and where we are going.

Trajectory