The day is as gray as possible. Grayer, even. So much so that one can feel a depressive mood hanging in the air, like an awkward stillness between strangers in an elevator. Like the nervousness that hangs between individuals when they are trying too hard to make conversation. Or, like the sullen clouds, simply low and ready to burst with rain. Ready to cry.
Suddenly, sun. Its warmth and gentle yellowness caress my cheeks. The clouds having parted for just a short moment, I've soaked in an ounce of joy.
And then, back to gray.
It used to be that overcast days didn't bother me much. They took the pressure off of having to be cheerful. One could sulk freely on an "ugly" day. That novel idea alone caused me to think the grayness not at all ugly, but relaxing. Soothing even.
And yet. Now. I hunger for sunshine. As if unconsciously realizing that its preciousness is eventually doomed, destroyed. Millions of years hence, perhaps. Still, enough to render it mortal, just like us. And that just makes it easier to resent, easier to love, easier to wallow in, joyfully.
"Our world is in crisis because of the absence of consciousness. And so to whatever degree any one of us, can bring back a small piece of the picture and contribute it to the building of the new paradigm, then we participate in the redemption of the human spirit, and that after all is what it's really all about."
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