The sun melted as it struck the horizon to the West. The once orange globe now burned fiery red as it descended back to hell to refuel for the opposite side of earth. Purple mixed with blues and yellows shot forth in to the nothingness of the Milky Way where it lingered for light years before reaching the doorway to Heaven and vanishing altogether. An invisible hand took hold of massive clouds and shifted them slightly, causing people far below to bow in awe as the sunset began to reach its’ zenith. Far above the outstretched arms of mankind, stars began to awaken from slumber and the moon rose to victory as his eternal foe was snuffed out beyond the Pacific and was no more.
The sunset described above was concocted in my imagination on the way home from work the other night. It is a figment of my heart. The real sunset was rather uneventful yet beautiful in its’ own right. No fireworks. No orgasmic blast of colors raining down from above. No altercations between sun and moon. The people driving in front of me continued on their paths towards wherever while I rested my head against the cushion and listened to Lyle Lovett sing about flour tortillas and the woman he loves. I began to wonder what type of words would describe moments of true happiness. When I listen to him sing about over-easy eggs and sleeping in on Sundays, I am convinced the hype we see on television is nothing more than smoke in mirrors. I wonder if the most precious moments in our lives really do commence over breakfast with a loved one. I watched the hula-hooped Hawaiian girl bobble back and forth in agreement on the dashboard of my van. Traffic crept along blissfully unaware of the perplexing dilemma which I faced so I rolled my window down to ask the little old lady beside me how she felt about the word Bangarang. She asked if I wanted a blue orangutan. I rolled up my window and sped away with images of blue monkeys throwing bananas and causing anarchy around town.
I believe we are allotted a handful of wonderful experiences in life which sweep away depression and cast light on the shadows of loneliness. We wait patiently for good tidings and great joy because some clever person told us it was a virtue and all that jazz so take a number, sit down and wait your turn. Do yourself a favor and bring a book because it may be a long wait. In all honesty, I am tired of waiting. Sometimes we need to step out of our shells of fear and uncertainty and take the plunge because nothing will ever happen if we stay stagnant. If we never have the guts to go off the beaten path once and awhile we run the risk of never finding the secret doors God intended us to find. These doors are not your main objective mind you, just interesting side quests. But there is a catch. Like our fragile human frame, these expeditions are vulnerable to time and will be swallowed up by the past if we are too timid to step out on a ledge and claim what so rightfully belongs to us. It makes me sad to think I passed up many doors in my own life that I was supposed to unlock. Fortunately I know there are more waiting for me to walk through. Actually, if you were to look down the road of my life at this moment, you would see a bunch of blue apes hanging a sign over what appears to be an ancient wooden door overrun with ivy and suspense. I think they are welcoming me to Bangarang.