I rode two directions today, north and south.
a storm was moving in from the south, thick gray clouds drooping low into that part of the valley, the sky over the north blue and pure.
I rode south, toward the threatening sky, watching it move toward me at the same pace I was moving toward it. we met, and my world darkened but remained dry, so I continued south. heavy gray pressed down, the air thick, the occasional kiss of a raindrop brushing my cheek.
the wind behind the clouds blew into me, gently, reminding me that wetness was inevitable in my future.
upon reaching my turnaround point, I swept through my wide rotation and faced north. wind at my back, I faced--high above and fighting for space in the cloud-filled sky--blue.
and my mindset changed.
I love storms, deep, dark cloudy skies and torrential rain. thunder, lightning, flashes that light up pearlized clouds and the electrical tension in the air. I love the weight of the clouds that hang low, I love the smell of earth soaked with fresh rainfall.
but I also love the blue of a carefree sky, unburdened by weather, by storms, by angry clouds dense with the weight of rain yet to fall. the blue that sings, the blue that promises life, growth, freedom from the imprisonment of cold and wet.
moving toward the blue, my heart lightened, my spirits lifted . . . my pedals may even have spun around more quickly. there's just something different about moving toward an outcome you desire, a hope that may be fulfilled, a dream that may be attained.
emily dickinson wrote that hope is the thing with feathers . . .
hope may also be the pieces of blue sky that hide behind the edges of the storm clouds, far to the north, teasing. calling me onward, promising . . . simply, hope.