I find it incredibly strange/coincidental/possibly miraculous that I spent a good bit of time last night writing a post about perfection, magic, and freedom, and I woke up this morning to a scenario that was perfect, magical, and essentially a visual metaphor of freedom.
You see, I’ve been thinking an awful lot lately about colors, and more specifically, how the composition of colors in a given scene can be the difference between indescribable beauty and a ridiculous mess of garbage. And then, when I walked out my front door this morning, I was greeted with this almost unbelievable scene:
I was floored, awed, and inspired by the sight of so many hot air balloons — after all, it’s not every day that you wake up to such an amazing scene!
So immediately, I’m thinking photo-op, and I rushed to get my camera out of my laptop bag, where it’s been sitting for the last few months. Of course, I already knew that the battery was dead, mostly because my little photography kick had all but died after this year’s Kentucky Oaks. I suppose it’s because of all the work I’ve done over the summer…But I can feel my desire to tinker with imagery returning. It’s one of those things that comes over me so hard that I can’t ignore it, and I usually end up putting off really important work while I devote time to the current object of my affection.
So I got distracted by a freaking email. Don’t people know that it’s hard to run a stream of consciousness experiment when you are continually interrupted?
Thinking in a constant, somewhat cogent stream is clearly something that is rhythmic by nature. Specifically, I mean that in order to really get into the “flow,” you must first settle and begin to bang out thoughts. Once you achieve that basic rhythm, then things really begin to happen. Sometimes it takes me a single paragraph, other times it may take six.
One thing I’ve definitely noticed, though, is that when I consciously think about falling into a subconscious rhythm, I can kinda start to make that happen.
How strange is that? Your conscious brainwaves dictating unconscious behavior. I think I need a V8.
But the balloons…They were amazing. Immediately upon seeing them, I thought of what I wrote last night. I thought of how inspirational and liberating it was to just sit down and let things happen. Even while I was writing, it seemed as though good things were happening. At the time, I couldn’t point to anything specific, but I swear to you that I felt like it was there. It was good. It was happening.
And then I wake up to an incredible display of 50 or so hot air balloons flying so close to my house that I could’ve chipped a golf ball up into one of the bassinets.
It was so unintentionally, coincidentally beautiful that I almost don’t believe that it was simply dumb luck.
Alas, I know that it was. Like I said before, I’m a pragmatist. Thankfully, I’m an opportunistic pragmatist, and I managed to take 71 photos of the balloons before all was said and done.
Just a bit ago, I mentioned that the balloons were incredibly close to my house. They actually ended up landing in a field that is literally no more than 1000 yards from my back deck. Naturally, I hopped in the car and chased them down to see them land, and I was just overcome with the excitement and amazing nature of the entire moment.
The morning sky was perfect today. As beautiful a morning as has ever graced this part of the earth, I would imagine — cool, comfortable air temperatures with the warming, comforting sensation from the direct rays of the sun. The balloons came up over the horizon from a direction that allowed for nearly perfect backlighting, thus making the sky appear a deep, crystalline blue.
Against that liquidy backdrop, the balloons — especially the vibrant ones — looked like perfect explosions of color. The composition of all of them against that incredible sky were something that cannot be put into words, and to be honest, I’m not even sure that the pictures do a good job of capturing the essence of the moment.
Truth be told, though, that’s probably the fault of the photographer.
the nature of perfection
The bottom line here is that sometimes perfection is something you strive for, yet other times, it’s something that just happens. The best you can do is try to savor what that moment is really about.
Capture it in a picture.
Stand in awe of it.
I love what I was able to experience this morning. I love it because it was perfect, and I feel this strange kinship with that moment. At the same time, I know that I will never produce or be a part of anything that will provide me with the same sort of feeling that I had today.
But, when you look at it from a different angle, perhaps I could be a part of something that would provide this same type of feeling for someone else.
I don’t think you can be perfect for you. I think sometimes, when you really hit on the right chord, you can be perfect for someone else, at least momentarily.
Perfection is rare.
Perfection is fleeting.
I believe perfection is impossible to plan or strategize because it’s both contextual and dependent upon the individual who experiences it.
For me, this morning was perfect. For others, it was merely interesting or simply out of the ordinary.
It was my moment, and I have captured my moment of perfection and tried to put it into words for all to see.
But to be honest, I don’t care that you relate to my experience this morning. On the contrary, I would much prefer to clue you in to those moments in your life that are perfect for you. For your sake, I hope that you are able to experience your own scene of perfection, and I hope you have the incredible opportunity to revel in it, just as I did.