A Few Days Of Heaven

Monument Blossoms

Like happiness, it never last very long. That’s just the way it is, but while it lasts, it is nothing short of heaven. I’m obviously referring to the yearly spectacle that is the Cherry Blossoms blooming season around the Tidal Basin area downtown Washington, DC. That’s right, the same town where politicians have given new meaning to the word hate, but where nature, in spite of their attempt to spoil it, explodes in all its beauty for a few days in March every year. Around the grassy meadows of the Washington Mall, the eternal fights just a few blocks away seem as in a different galaxy. The beautiful bloom of these bendy trees remains as oblivious of the politicians as the politicians remain of their delicate flowers. In fact, the Cherry Blossoms are a happy zone, a zone where smiles and enjoyment of what life has to offer are potent enough to exclude any feeling of unhappiness and dejection. A zone where “public demonstrations of affection” are not only evident everywhere you look, but where they are impossible to repress amongst so much beauty. It is a yearly ritual that only lasts three or four days, but one that that is the clearest symbol of spring and of the beauty, happiness, and hope that still exists in the world. Nature, and people, at their best. The world could use a little bit more of both.

Spring Is Finally Here

You can barely tell that a couple of weeks ago temperatures were at the freezing level and it was snowing in the Mid-Atlantic region.
You can barely tell that a couple of weeks ago temperatures were at the freezing level and it was snowing in the Mid-Atlantic region.

What a difference a couple of weeks make.  As April started in the Mid-Atlantic region, freezing temperatures and a couple of inches of snow would have led you to believe that winter would never end.  Instead of birds singing in the morning all you could hear was the unmistakable raspy sound of ice scrapers chiseling away windshields before the dreaded morning commute to work got started.  Gladly, all that appears to be behind us now and those dreaded ice scrappers have been put away for good.  This coming week should also be the peak bloom period for the famous cherry trees lining the Tidal Basin in DC.  The annual Cherry Blossom Festival is in full force and the weather could not be more perfect.  Time to get out and see the world waking up from its long, winter slumber.  See you out there.

Finding Your Mojo At The Georgetown Labyrinth

The Georgetown Labyrinth seeks to promote the pursuit of human spirituality in a city that is not always interested in such pursuits.
The Georgetown Labyrinth seeks to promote the pursuit of human spirituality in a city that is not always interested in such pursuits.

The weather report is forecasting a very cold, wintry day for tomorrow, but today the weather could not have been any better.  A bright, sunny day with temperatures around 50 degrees made for a good day to walk the streets with your camera.  The strange thing was that I found myself photographing once again around the Georgetown waterfront as if pulled by some cosmic magnetic force beyond my control.  And you know what?  There may be something to this after all, because if there’s a place that can exert such force on mere mortals, it must be the lollypop-shaped Georgetown Labyrinth.  Never mind that on this day its primary purpose seemed to be to serve as a racetrack for a father and son combo trying out their dueling remotely controlled cars.  No, I have to believe that this divine center of gravity in a city mostly known for governmental witchcraft and cutthroat politicians exists to elevate the human spirit above its mundane nature.  Yes, that’s got to be it.  The Labyrinth must emanate some sort of magnetic field that attracts imperfect souls to its bosom, to the circle of self-discovery and introspection in order to cleanse the spiritual attic of our lives of all its cobwebs and imperfections.  There is no doubt that this  is the reason why I found myself on this very spot today, looking at the skies from the center of the circle waiting for something great to happen.  Well, I didn’t have to wait long for it.  First, there was a swoosh, then another, then a rattling noise by my feet that I interpreted as my soul about to be elevated above the clouds to a higher level of existence.  And then, there they were, circling around me at high speed, but never to be confused with stars and magnetic forces of any kind: two noisy electric cars moving at high speed in a nausea-inducing crisscross pattern, with father and son busily punching at their control boxes as if they were commanding a nuclear submarine.  My spirit safely tucked where it had been all along, I made it out of the Labyrinth before the local Nascar duo had a chance to tromp all over it.  I knew it; this place exists for a purpose, and it may well have to do with the bonding between a father and his son.