Sometimes something can be so beautiful that it actually hurts your eyes. It’s as if your eyes are screaming at you, insisting you must look away because the beauty is too overpowering. You look away, you look down, you blink, and then you are drawn back. You must look at the brilliance even if it’s painful. You have to look. You have to remember something . . .
|I chanced upon a dream . . .|
The sun reflected off the clouds, off the water, and off the snow. It was a blinding sight down at the ocean today. The wind was incredibly fierce and cold, and I think that was to balance out the beauty of the scene. If it had been calm and serene, I might have suffered from beauty overload, and the wind knew that. This is Maine, though, and it is never calm and serene in the winter.
But it is beautiful. Like a dream. Like hobbits in the shire, the people in the small communities of Maine continue to live and work much as they always have. And that’s beautiful, too. If there is a “big bad world” out there, it exists only in stories told around campfires to scare children into behaving. Then it’s time to look back at the brilliance again and forget. The sun wipes the slate clean, and the magic continues.