Something has changed in the way I am seeing the sky lately. Has it always been this vast, or have I only just started looking up?
It started about a week and a half ago when I participated in this wonderful outdoor concert with the Montreal Symphony Orchestra. It took place outdoors in the East end of the city. From the stage area, we were raised just enough over the city that the sky could be seen in every direction for what seemed like forever. Before the show, I went up to the top of the risers to view the crowd (which swelled to an awesome 40 000 people!) and was taken aback at the immensity of the sky from up there. How much of it I could see. It was overcast but the clouds were strutting, let me tell you. There were silver rolls, slate puffs, and roiling masses in all shades of grey. It was incredible.
Since that moment, I’ve been noticing it more and more. I looked up in the parking lot of the grocery store and saw blue flecked with white clouds in every direction- it nearly floored me how beautiful and simple it was. I can only think to describe it as though somehow I’ve been viewing the sky through this tiny lens and I’ve just begun taking panoramic shots.
Visiting a friend who lives away from the city lights, I noticed how much larger the view was from there. That endless darkness spattered with light expanded in front of my eyes.
I don’t live in the prairie or desert, where it’s typical to see skies go on forever. I’ve lived in the city or suburbs and even where mountains or trees slice the piece of sky to see. I’m enjoying experiencing it exactly where I am, now.
These reflections have made me think of the line from the song ” Come What May”, sung in Moulin Rouge. I feel like I’ve never seen the sky before. I’m grateful for the wondrous and varied view it provides.