Looking High and Low

I believe in extremes. Do not get me wrong, I prac­tice the golden mean when it is appro­pri­ate. How­ever, when it comes to being inspired, I look high and low. By gaz­ing into the night sky or look­ing at a leaf, I have the same kind of feel­ing. The immense and the minia­ture hold a sim­i­lar magic. Travel over­seas is a par­al­lel expe­ri­ence to tak­ing the dog for a walk. The sim­ple and the pro­found are in cahoots. If one does not get you, the other one will. That which is in between is so com­mon and an all too easy trap for the unfeel­ing rou­tines that pass time with­out engen­der­ing qual­ity life.

Being a bit of a manic-depressive is a real bless­ing. I love to “soar with eagles” and also “walk the val­ley of the shadow of death.” There are per­spec­tives to be gained in both. With­out them, every­day expe­ri­ences would be intol­er­a­bly dull. It is the edges that beckon. Take me to a cliff or to the bot­tom of a canyon. Toss in the threat of life and limb just for good mea­sure. See how it gives mean­ing to a Mon­day or any other often-dreaded day.

Few things truly hold my atten­tion much any­more. It has been a bless­ing that my life has con­sisted of the study of the most amaz­ing per­son in his­tory. From that impossible-to-fully-define per­son­al­ity all other expe­ri­ences glean their qual­i­ties and char­ac­ter. Thirty sec­onds of look­ing into the sky or thirty sec­onds pon­der­ing a peb­ble is all it takes. Look up. Look down. Get your bear­ings. Feel smaller than and larger than at the same time. Most of all, real­ize that the moment can­not be captured.

Lis­ten­ing to a great sym­phony or hear­ing the rain on the roof reg­is­ters much the same way. The sounds are many and dif­fer­ent, but they have a com­mon theme. The sum is greater than the parts. All sounds can­not be fully heard, but they still reg­is­ter as a com­plete work. The hottest sum­mer days and the cold­est win­ter nights are reflected in the remind­ing breezes of spring and fall. Highs and lows may get one labeled as bipo­lar — an epi­thet that might well be worn as a badge by the creative.

Feel­ing numb? Let me rec­om­mend a favorite cliff or two. I also have some­one I want you to meet.