“Why are there so many songs about rainbows and what’s on the other side?
Rainbows are visions but only illusions and rainbows have nothing to hide
So we’ve been told and some choose to believe it, I know they’re wrong wait and see
Someday we’ll find it, the rainbow connection, the lovers, the dreamers and me
Who said that every wish would be heard and answered, when wished on the morning star?
Somebody thought of that and someone believed it, look what it’s done so far
What’s so amazing that keeps us stargazing and what do we think we might see?
Someday we’ll find it, the rainbow connection, the lovers, the dreamers and me
All of us under its spell, we know that it’s probably magic…..
Have you been half asleep and have you heard voices? I’ve heard them calling my name
Is this the sweet sound that calls the young sailors? The voice might be one and the same
I’ve heard it too many times to ignore it: It’s something that I’m supposed to be
Someday we’ll find it, the rainbow connection, the lovers, the dreamers and me” Kermit
When I was young, my favorite performance from Mother Nature was summer thunderstorms and we had quite a number of them. I have since graduated to tornados, but that is a whole ‘nother story. Growing up on Long Island, (and still owning that accent, oy vey!), the months from late June through mid September were hot and very humid, ripe for thunderstorms. I realized at a very early age, I not only could see the sky in different hues which would warn me that some type of storm was brewing, but also quite some time before anyone else noticed. I could smell it, smell the rain coming, which pulled my attention upward to then notice the change in the clouds, the changing color of the sky, the movement of the air circulating upward or in an opposite direction, the leaves on the trees, which were otherwise unresponsive in the dead heat, starting to lift from underneath, showing some sign of life, just not their own. Uh oh.
I would watch as the sky went from blue and sunny and white fluffy clouds, to the clouds growing thicker and straight up, turning shades of grey and then losing themselves to a deep and complete jet black sky. Then I would hear the first tremble of thunder that would roil somewhere behind the shrouded sky. I would wait until the last possible moment, until the largest raindrops would start to fall, from a slow random hit or miss, that you could hear slapping everything it landed on, and then speed up to a deluge as the sky literally opened up. I would be yelled at to get inside, because where there was thunder, lightning was sure to follow. And while I could hear windows being shut on one side of the house to keep out the rain, I would sprint upstairs to one of the two bedrooms that afforded the best view, push my face up against the screen, or most times, open up the screen completely and stick my head out, claiming a front row seat for what always proved to be a spectacular sight. The first lightning divided the darkened sky and I was off to the booming of the thunder and the explosive crackle of these large and dangerous sky assaults. It was truly magnificent and I never tired of watching them.
But then there was the other side of rain storms; when the sun was completely or partially out and it would begin to rain, sometimes a spritz, sometimes a shower, sometimes a deluge, but they wouldn’t last too long and I would stand out in them and wait, trying to keep my head looking upward because I didn’t want to miss it, the beginning of it, the strand of different vibrant colors that suddenly appeared, as if it had always been there, but hidden, arched across the sky, so magical, so amazing; the most beautiful rainbow. I always tried to follow one of the arches to its end, the one that I could see almost down to the ground that would get lost behind houses, buildings or other human structures. I wanted to see how it ended - was there something at the bottom? When I was older and able to drive, I would jump in my car and try to navigate to one of the ends, driving like crazy to get to a clearing where I could see where it connected to the ground; the same one that I was standing on. Try as I might, I never succeeded, but I never gave up. I just kept chasing them. It seemed, though, as I got much older, the storms got less frequent, less intense and the rainbows grew few and far between; maybe I stopped looking. But all of that changed when, pulled back on my spiritual path, I landed in Florida. Jackpot!
When I was much younger, I never really thought about a rainbow serving any other function than just being a beautiful, colorful arch breaking out of the clouds, indicating all danger had passed and here was this beautiful beacon, this sign, a gift. That is, until, in my late twenties, I was told of the Rainbow bridge; where your loving four legged companions, whose life was completed before yours, were waiting for you. I was relieved, ecstatic. And after my beloved chocolate lab Roscoe left this world, and eight years later, Chuck, I would have these conversations, out loud, in the house, sometimes telling, sometimes threatening but never asking Chuck, that he better leave Roscoe right at the rainbow bridge, where he was waiting for me, and not take my dog with him. So Roscoe, and now Kohlie, better be there……..
As I got older and hopefully a bit better at connecting the dots, I realized that a bridge goes somewhere, it takes you over to another side from whence you came, it is “a structure carrying a road, a path, … across a river, ravine, … or other obstacle; something that is intended to reconcile or form a connection between two things.” (M. Webster)
In finding great comfort that my pets will be waiting for me and knowing they are at the beginning of that rainbow, I realized in all my time of zigzagging in and out of developments, one eye on the rainbow and one eye on the road, hurrying up and frantically searching, I could never find that place, never find where the rainbow began because it wasn’t for me to find, not yet anyway.
Attraversare or Transversal: to cross over; the bridge that connects us from the world we occupy to the one that awaits and you may wonder where it actually takes us. Well, I have my own itinerary, but for all of you, I will share this: When Harry asked Dumbledore, after Voldemort killed him and they were in the afterworld standing in Kings Cross Station, that if he got on a train, where did he think it would take him. After a brief moment, Dumbledore replied, “On”. And so I would have to say, in crossing any bridge, we go “on” to whatever or wherever each of us is heading towards. But until I am ready to go “on”, I will continue to chase rainbows for that connection, that bridge that is always out there, undetected in the blinding brightness of the sun, waiting for a tremendous storm with enough energy and force to clear away the “cloak of invisibility” and reveal this magical structure, if only for a very short time, before it slowly fades away again. But it is always there, just hidden, like my eyes peering through my glasses, disappearing behind my transition lenses whenever I go outside.
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