"Running Commentary"
The Color Of Silence
From the 1994 archives, originally published in the Wayne (PA) Times …
Sunday morning.
Very dark and stormy outside. OK, maybe it isn’t stormy, but it is definitely dark. My left big toe extends outside the warmth under the comforter to test the waters.
There’s a nip in the air. c-c-c-c-c-c-cold.
Five minutes pass before I open one eye. Assessing the possibilities, I open another eye, fairly close to its neighbor. The first is more focused than the second. Both seem operable … why is everything sideways? I am at right angles with the world.
Perhaps I had too much wine last night? Don’t want to think about that right now. But…I think it’s impossible not to think. Try it sometime … try not to think. You’re thinking about not thinking, aren’t you? See! Told you so.
I wonder if these moments under the soft down comforter will prove to be a highlight of my day. It’s very quiet outside. Can’t hear any cars. I like morning quietude. No need to concern myself with the problems of the world just yet. The world will do very well without me for a little longer.
Later today I’ll come up with a plan for world peace.
Nearby, the TV is blinking absent-mindedly. A reminder that I fell asleep last night watching an old movie from the '30’s. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rodgers. What happened? Fred and Ginger had a big fight. Did they patch things up and get back together? They seemed like such a great couple, dancing so gracefully under those classic Art Deco sets. So in love.
What am I saying? In real life, they hated each other.
One leg slithers out of the covers. Then the other. I am now half-way vertical. Making progress.
The world doesn’t look so crooked anymore. Outside my window, the first hint of morning light appears. The color of blue-black ink. And so my day begins … with a Rorschach test.
I wander into the kitchen. Yesterday’s coffee … Nuked it. Lukewarm … Inhaled it. Brain or no brain, it’s time for my run.
Searching for my running jacket, I can’t stop thinking about Fred and Ginger. He was such a jerk. Ginger was beautiful and sweet. But she loved him Maybe everything ended happily.
I lace up my Nikes and head out the door. My left toe predicted nippy. Nippy? It’s COLD!! Legs aren’t moving very fast. Very slow jog. Coffee hasn’t hit yet. Ah’m jus’ sloooo’ dancin’ … No thought of where I’m going, or even why. Still trying not to think too much. Just pushing forward with an ever-slight tilt. Just your basic morning run.
Morning frost … when will my body warm up? I should have nuked my jacket. Continuing to meander down mindless country roads … very slow pace. After a couple of miles, I do something extremely unusual – I stop running. In the course of an entire year of running, I hardly ever stop in the middle of a run. Today is different. I’m walking because the sky is unfolding.
Like a forgotten Christmas present that fell from heaven’s attic, the firmament seems to be unwrapping itself, exposing a powerful remembrance of everything that is beautiful. No longer a blue and black Rorschach test, fingertips of dawn begin to spread outward, all around me.
Along the roadside, I notice a sign – “Hidden Meadow Farm. Horses boarded.” Behind the sign is an open field I never noticed before. Walking through some low bushes, I come to the meadow after which the farm had surely been named Hidden indeed.
The meadow reflects the changing tint of pastels overhead Slow moving clouds are merging … shades of sinister charcoal melt into warmer purples and dark corals. The watercolors are running and blending together … dark purple dissolves to coral …dark coral to a lighter shade of pink.
I sat down in the open field, watching the pastel panorama unfold. As the sky transformed and dissolved into varying shades of coral, pink and yellow gold, I meditated and gave thanks to the Sun God for simple pleasures … for the watercolors of the sky … for the gift that fell from heaven’s attic.
Shivering, I sat for almost an hour, very still.
All around me, the meadowed cathedral was full of purple thistles and Queen Anne’s Lace. All the thistles and Queen Anne’s Lace appeared to be reaching and leaning forward with outstretched arms … in the direction of the morning sun. I was in the midst of a field of reverent worshipers. Thousands of arms stretched upward. All reaching for the Sun God.
I too stretched out my arms upward.
As the Sun God began to overwhelm us all with morning brilliance, one worshiper reluctantly arose … and walked out of the cathedral … back to the road … past the Hidden Meadow sign. He didn’t even remember running home. His head was still floating in the clouds.
No longer sleepy or shivering, he was filled with an awareness of something far greater than himself … of beautiful, majestic things. And the color of silence.
Of coral, pink and yellow watercolors bleeding together.
Of Queen Anne’s Lace and purple thistles in the cathedral.
Of the Sun God.
Sunday morning.
Note: The big day is almost here. Airshow 2021, Saturday, September 25 at Blosser Municipal Airport. Aerobatics, vintage airplanes, helicopter rides. Free parking, free admission. Fun for the entire family. Gates open 11:00; Airshow 1:00-4:00.