Lit Up (my arctic dénouement)

After three weeks of somewhat uncharacteristic but dismal weeks of hanging rain clouds and daily losses of six to seven minutes of daylight, the clouds parted to reveal the setting of the sun..."no big deal" many think- unless they've been to the interior of Alaska. As is to be expected here, this summer season I haven't shared the big dipper in the night sky with someone special far away, I haven't admired a sunset from atop a modest hill or "dome", I haven't had to curb my drinking/hiking/waking/thinking. The sun is always there. Until this night...when suddenly the sky was all lit up.
The glow caused by the setting sun triggered many thoughts, the first being the marvel of the Alaska sky. In summer when rains do fall they usually occur in contained and isolated areas, and do so swiftly and without much impact. ("Virga", I have learned). More often than not these patterns leave a spectacular rainbow to arch across the great blue. I have seen nearly a-rainbow-a-day some weeks. On other days the clouds appear like cartoon sketches or video-game symbols of what clouds "might" be, according to creative minds that render imaginary worlds.

But when dark has come, it comes on fast. That's when I know it is time to go. By season's end my skin crawls for something new, yet harboring saudades for the comforts of the closest thing to home I know. Conditionally, the anticipation of new adventure, new scenery, new people, new work exhilarates my soul; conditionally, because I know where I'll be going, who will be there when I arrive, and what I can hope to resurrect and dig in deep. But first:

While exchanging climates several times, I'll head out to the desert and partake in the notions of a temporary society with ideals that range from free trade and barter rules to free love and breaking rules and find my place just left of the middle. Like the stepping-out-of-one's-self that comes with oversea travel and the subsequent removal from one's own culture as he steps into this other realm, I hope not only to take in what transpires around, but to reassess a bit of the core as well. I'll leave early, but not for any sacrifice, subtracting my presence from the apex-the great ceremonial burn [reminiscent of my nature??].

Sometimes the best moments are the little rituals in life for which we build no hype but that keep us smiling into another day- sunsets and rainbows to name two. Though my preferred moment may be inconsequential to the masses, not unlike the man that burns in high expectation to highlight the cause for gathering, I too will be lit up.

(As the great choreographer David Dorfman once said in earshot, "perform little rituals every day".)

Do you?