Been feeling a little blue today, partly because I haven’t been feeling well, and partly because the loneliness has been creeping in while I was hanging out at the lounge.
I was at the Portland Museum of Art for most of the morning, a pleasant surprise as I found most of the art to be intriguing and fascinating to look at. There was one in particular that really captivated me, titled “Autumn Birches,” by Albert Bierstadt:
You know how it is when you first glance at a painting, your initial thought is, “Meh, looks nice?” But then you take a closer look, and after a while it starts to speak to you? That was my experience. It was a painting that embodied everything I loved about nature: mountains, fall foliage, even a darkened sky that hinted at a coming storm. I knew all about that storm too: it was my life after all, which began on the same day a violent hurricane hit our coastlines, and that same storm has been with me in some form or another ever since.
Yet at the same time, I welcomed it in a way, especially its raw power and destructive force. It had the capacity to destroy, while at the same time leaving behind the things that really mattered to me: such as the mountains and the trees with its vibrant autumn leaves. As violent and disruptive as these storms could be, in the end I was left with the hope that everything was still going to be ok. Life would still go on. The mountains would remain unmoved and the trees would continue to grow.
So in spite of this melancholy rain sweeping over me, evening will soon turn to morning and I can look forward to a new day, one taking me back to the safe mountains of New Hampshire.