This morning I woke up with a feeling I haven't felt in quite a while. You could call it hope, certainly, but it's more than that. It's genuine excitement that things are finally going to turn around. Then there's the historic impact of the moment. If I'm excited to have witnessed this event, I can barely begin to imagine what people of color must be feeling. As a child of the 60s, I remember clearly where I was and what I was doing when I heard about the loss of John Kennedy, Martin Luther King Jr., and Bobby Kennedy, and also my generation's figurehead of peace, John Lennon. Last night is a moment I will gladly remember for much better and brighter reasons. And as I think of the future, I'm smiling again.
The Cloud Messenger (Meghadūta) is a lyric poem by the respected Indian poet, Kālidāsa. The poem centers around a yaksa in exile. Longing for his beloved, waiting for him on a Himalayan mountain, he asks a cloud to take a message to her. The sights he tells the cloud it will see on its way make up most of the poem.
The idea of recording observations appeals to me. I thought The Cloud Messenger was the perfect title for a blog about the journey that we all make as we move through our days.
I'm a baby boomer who grew up dancing in the streets of Detroit during the classic Motown years, lived beside the Rocky Mountains for many years, now retired and living (and writing full time) in S. Ontario. I have one blog for rock 'n' roll oldies, and one for nature, poetry and life along the Lake.