השמיים (hashamayim)
This morning, I woke up to a thunderstorm. I'm sure there have been thunderstorms while I've been here before, but it felt surprising like it was the first time that had happened. I can't remember watching lightning flashing against a gray-white sky through this window before. Lying in bed, not needing to get up and go anywhere, the storm was beautiful. Dramatic and calming, at the same time. The thunder claps were surprisingly gentle -- almost soothing -- and the cool, rain-damp air seemed to be saying "relax, you're almost done and it's going to be okay."
By the time I actually got up for breakfast, the rain had thankfully stopped, but the sky was still gray and the air still felt like it does during a spring storm -- cool without being cold, damp without being sticky. As I write this, sitting again on my bed and putting off working on my last final paper, it's started to rain again. The sort of gentle rain that falls lightly on your skin, but soaks you through in seconds anyways, and might continue for hours, but will probably let up in a minute or two.
I love the weather. I love the sky, and how it changes the emotional and aesthetic qualities of a place. I love the plants, especially the trees, and how they change every season. This is such an ugly campus in many ways, but in the right light, it can be beautiful. It's something that I can't really talk about without sounding a bit out of it. Sometimes, the color of the sky will catch me--it's intensity, it's purity, something--and I'll stare at it, enthralled. Feeling compelled to explain myself, I'll say with a wonder that borders on disbelief, "The sky is blue!"
Maybe I'm misremembering, but I think feeling this way is part of not being depressed. Especially seeing the world this way without it making me want to burst into tears of despair, but that's a different issue.
...And now, to figure out how to do priming experiments in sign language. FUN!