July 25, 2005
Today I booked a trip for San Francisco. My friend and I have been planning a trip for a long time, and we finally were able to connect schedules and scrape enough clams together to go. I found a great package, and I made a reservation. As I checked out, I saw the name of the trip: “I Left My Hops in San Francisco” Ironically, two beer non-drinkers signed up for some kind of hops holiday. I can’t wait.
July 20, 2005
Our plane was landing in Chicago, my city. I expected to arrive late afternoon, but the weather delayed us for many hours. It was after midnight, and the city was abed under a sparkling quilt of street lights. As we approached the runway, I watched the beacons begin to twinkle. I had thought the night city beautiful, but the sparkle of light enhanced it even more. It took me a few minutes to realize the twinkling came, not from the lights themselves, but from the trees that obscured then revealed them as we landed.
I had an ‘aha’ moment, which was pretty remarkable considering I’d been on the road for seventeen hours at this point. The lights twinkled, not because they were moving, but rather because I was. And I knew in that instant that I could have beauty in my life if I stood still, but if I really want the light to take my breath away, I need to move. To take off, to land, whatever the case may be, but I must move.