The dictionary defines ‘skyline’ as this:
Definition of skyline
1 : the apparent juncture of earth and sky : horizon
2 : an outline (as of buildings or a mountain range) against the background of the sky
I am a sky lover, as anyone who has read this blog long enough knows. When the spaces in my heart seem small, then all I have to do is look up the sky, see it stretching its arms forever and ever, and I suddenly find that my heart is a larger place, that I can reflect some of that joy and peace back to myself.
I can watch the sky transition through the mellow rise of a day to the harsh blues lashing across its face, and the fiery end to that harshness as twilight sinks into the final dark, enveloping shimmers of night. And then, as I watch the sky enact its dance of transitoriness, I am reminded again of the one lesson that we want to forget : impermanence. We all think we know it. We all think we understand change. But very few of us can accept change. We stick to the fights of the past, and obsess over insults to our egos. We forget that the sun rises and sets on every past. We forget that this one day is all we have. No. Scratch that. This one moment, before it changes all over again.
When I see the sky, I see all this and more. I remain for a moment, transfixed. A sense of what can only be described as joy comes over me. It’s not hedonistic happiness that is the bane of our lives. No. This is a deeper happiness because I feel blessed that the sky woke up with me, that the sky exists for me, casting a cloth of love over me, and that through its transformations, it keeps urging me to accept the inevitability of change. So, I change. I am not who you thought I was yesterday. I am here. I won’t exist tomorrow. And that is just how the sky would like it to be.
A celebration of life.