A Subject of Sorts

Today could be described as lovely if one were talking about the weather. I am not talking about the weather however. No, my subject is impervious to weather and all of its fickle indiscretions. There is no rain that can dampen my subject's extremities or even bead up upon its surface. Sun cannot warm it and wind cannot bring about a chill. When the weatherman predicts a chance of showers my subject does not consider to bring a jacket. When he predicts snow my subject feels no fear of driving. When a blanket of gray coats the sky for what seems an eternity, my subject does not let a sigh escape before rising from bed. As the weather continues to dictate and direct the course of a day's activities, its power is lost on my subject. What a beautiful happening. Weather sans power or importance. An elite existence with an attitude sailing by nonchalant and diving right into utter apathy toward weather.

What is my subject? An abstract idea perhaps? A virtue lost beneath generations of compromise? I'm wondering if at this point it really even matters. Could you walk away from this with just the simple knowledge that something out there is outside the realm of Weather's power and be satisfied? It seems a satisfying thought. A sweet secret that you keep with you as tiny wet bullets spring from the sky and scatter across your face. No, Rain, you are not limitless, yes Wind you have bounds. While we may fall victim to all of Weather's air streams and storm fronts, there is something out there free from it all. And in that freedom can we find our own?

Maybe if we knew what is was.

But honestly, its not that hard--pick an idea, or god or metaphor and relish in the fact that it has no thought toward weather. Take the knowledge and may it make you laugh at the wind as it whips by you and may it give you the courage to flip off the falling sleet.

This is the way to survive Portland's Winter and Spring. A little perspective and ornery as hell.