Evening Thoughts

Damn! It's almost the end of the day and I haven't yet written. Well, it was Shabbat, so my computer was off, and I think that's a worthy excuse. I love having 25 hours away from my electronics, coming back makes me look at them in awe, wonder and delight.

I watched Food, Inc. this evening with my family. The information it preached was appalling and disgusting, frustrating and huge. It made me shout over and over, "your choice is your voice!" to my mom and brother (my dad was asleep on the couch). This is what we said to our students at the job I worked at this fall.

But I don't really want to write about the vast depressing issues of Food, Inc. I want to write about something quiet and delicate, a beautiful, delicious, subtle memory. The first thing that comes to mind is the sunset this afternoon, the image doesn't quite have the warmth I'm searching for, but it will have to do.

The sky was mostly gray today. But it wasn't the monotonous, high, dull gray of most days here on the western side of the Cascade Mountains. It was thick and textured, full of shapes and shades. The sun would peak out every so often, lighting up a tree, or a patch of grass, as if on centerstage. In the car the sun could shock you, force you to search for those broken sunglasses to shield from a surprise flash. Riding across the Narrows Bridge late this afternoon, one such break was out in the south above Puget Sound. The delicious thick clouds with twinges of purple, pink, and orange, along with infinite shades of gray, parted, and a huge spotlight streamed down. The water was glowing, beaming, star of the show, with the soft rounded islands of land on either side.

Whenever I cross that bridge I think this is the most beautiful place in the world.