Two nights ago, there was the most astonishing sunset. Words cannot express it (have you ever tried?!) It was one of those sunsets that looked like a Thomas Cole or Albert Bierstadt painting...or even like one of my small sunset oil paintings, painted years ago from photographs. Brilliant yellows, oranges, neon pinks, purples...but of course what amazes is how quickly the scene evolves. The clouds change, the colors morph. Before color photography, how did the 19th century painters capture a moment that did not stand still?
I was transfixed by this sunset for over a half an hour, and would go so far to say that it wasn't so much a case of looking "at" it as being "in" it. To use the radio station metaphor from my blog the other day, I stumbled across a station that came in loud and clear, so much so that I aligned with the "music" almost completely.
But of course when the sun dropped behind the mountains, there was a return to normal life, washing a few dishes, turning on a few lights. I had decided to watch a movie, and sat down to do that, suddenly realizing that I was literally being bombarded with repugnant imagery from trailers of Hollywood films. I guess someone has decided that gender equity equals dressing women up as curvaceous killers and setting them loose on the world. Note to executives -- that is not me, that is not virtually any woman, and I can choose to ignore these films. So to the best of my ability, I did, scrolling through with my eyes closed until I reached the actual movie, which was rather mediocre but at least had some good 19th century period fashion and historical interest. It was the visual equivalent of mood music.
The point is, over about three hours, I turned the radio "dial" and resonated deeply with the music of one station, not at all with the music of a second, and in kind of a distant, distracted way with a third. Another person might have momentarily glanced at the sunset, sat riveted watching the movie trailers, then turned off that movie. We are all making choices like these every day, aren't we? On this first day of spring, I celebrate all these options, but most of all, I celebrate my power to choose.
