***life raft - Rob Hughes***

...how do i let go?

...how do i let go?

By my own design, I am forced to reflect on the events and conditions that led me to this place of joy, of gratitude and of hope for the future.

I once climbed a great mountain. I had no fear. I saw none of the dangers around me. I had a single-minded goal, and I proceeded directly to my destination — the top of the mountain. It was exhilarating. The vistas were grand. I was intoxicated by the rarefied atmosphere. It was at that moment of intoxication and exhilaration that my world began to crumble around me. Ironic, isn't it. When I reached my destination, I lost my way.

While exploring red hills in the desert, I found a beautiful stone. It was smooth and shiny, about an inch in diameter, and had swirls of red and green. It felt warm in my hand, and I felt good when I squeezed it in my palm. I cherished the stone and kept it in my pocket for years, taking it out occasionally to admire its beauty and feel its warmth. It seemed as if the stone had powers of healing and strength, and I held it often. One day I reached in my pocket and the stone was gone. I was sad and panicked. I desperately searched for the stone, but it was lost. I became angry that no one could help me find it. For a long time I was sullen and bitter, until finally, I resigned myself to my loss, and I learned to find my own powers of healing and strength. Ironic, isn't it? When I lost my token of strength, I began to find my own way.

I was seduced by the bright lights and party nights of the great city. The broad boulevards beckoned and led to the winding canyon roads that slithered up to mood mansions and window houses hanging from the sides of the hills. In the hills I became a champion of hedonism as I sought the pleasures of the flesh and the mind. The petting of the fragile ego was the opiate that dulled the nagging realities of the seemingly mundane. But all that I truly loved and all that I had built shed away from my reach as I descended into self indulgence. Ironic, isn't it. When I sought pleasure, I was ultimately left with pain.

I can only ask forgiveness for my abuses and my guilt. I love all that was good that I left behind, and I am thankful that I survived to see another brighter day when perhaps I can make amends and live a better way.

It's my fault.
It's your fault.
It's their fault.
It's the fault of the system.
I could've been a contender.
It was the high point of my life.
There'll never be a better time.
I knew the way.
I lost my way.
There was no way.
There is no way.
Everything went right everything went wrong.
I had it.
I lost it.
I need it.
I want it.
I'm wrong.
I'm right.
I know.
I don't know.
It was perfect.
It will never be the same.

The colors of the sunsets ran the gamut. Yellows to orange to reds. Aqua marine to the darkest blue. Deep purple with shades of lime. An ever changing collage of colorful heralds of the night. The heat of the day melted away like rocky road and strawberry swirl. The west coast of America was a mecca for the changing of the guard from day to night where the window to the spirit world seemed to beckon at the twilight. I sat in the sand of Finnisterra at the tip of Baja and at the rock-ringed coves of the north, hypnotized by the ever-changing mix of sky and cloud and water and sun. I looked at the last wink of the sun as it made the water simmer in its last descent. I stood on the ridge of the coastal mountains and watched above and beyond the clouds and fog, sometimes seeing the sun set not once, but twice, as it peeked below the clouds for an encore before its final plunge. I spent most of my life transfixed by the sunsets of the western shore. It was a melancholy. A sadness for the loss of the day and an anticipation for the peace of night, even though the night often presented the greatest turmoil.

Not long ago, I began to appreciate the sunrise. It was not a melancholy that attracted me to the beginning of the day. It was a new and mysterious adventure. I looked toward the East where I had never been before. The last mist of the night carried the scents of the earth. The dew on the ground was cool before it disappeared to hide from the heat. At the mountain ridge and at the horizon of the desert, the light would begin to appear. And then like an explosion of energy, the sun shattered the cloak of night. My heart raced. I became dizzy with anticipation, sometimes even confused by the opportunity. It was a change. It was a gift. And I was grateful.

In the spring of this year, I sat outside with my wife and son at a restaurant on the west coast of the Big Island of Hawaii. We watched the glorious sunset together. And as we stared at the last descent, we saw the green flash. The tiny emerald of light appeared for only an instant on the horizon. It was my first green flash, and it was a glorious exclamation point to the sunsets of my life. We applauded with the crowd at dinner. I was warm with the love of my family and the show of nature.

I will always appreciate the beauty of sunsets, but I am coming to the sunrise more often these days. My family and I have moved east for new beginnings and to share the sunrise together. We are at once both excited and afraid about the explosion of change in our lives, but we are embracing the change together.

Ironic, isn't it? In the first half of my life I admired endings. Now, in the second half of my life I admire beginnings.

Oh, bittersweet irony. We can see it outside of our lives or after the fact, but only through wisdom can we know it when it happens to us in the moment. Wisdom. The combination of knowledge and experience. Never one without the other.

May you see the green flash and find your sunrise.