If that’s true, then all of us, standing and sitting around the beach fire on the fifth night of Hannukah, following the day the internet didn’t come to an end as predicted, are beautiful, since no matter where you went, the plumes would find you.
And who am I to doubt the aesthetic judgment of mostly unreacted air, carbon dioxide, and water, mixed with a variable amount of mold spores, volatile organic compounds, and aldehydes?
I do know, for sure, that the natural setting itself was particularly lovely, with a charcoal and graphite sky overhead to the east and the longest of low tide beaches stretching forth towards the west.
In fact, you could walk out so far onto the windswept sand bar that the entire shoreline expanse of Shilshole Bay, from Magnolia to Ballard and beyond was visible to your left, while simultaneously viewing all of Elliot Bay to downtown and Alki on your right, as if you were some sort of demi-Moses parting the seas of Seattle.
Maybe that was Mother Nature’s Hannukah gift of mixing together a soup of Biblical tales; who knows?
One thing’s for certain: if there is a God, He (or She, or They, or It, and All of the Above), must be pretty used to smoke following His (or Her, or Their, or Its) terrestrial handiwork, because this pale blue dot of a planet is some looker.
No matter where you set your eyes, as you rotated and revolved about vainly trying to avoid being the subject of that old Platters’ song, they were filled with visions of loveliness, all four of the traditional elements doing their part to satisfy and surpass even the heartiest of appetites for exquisite splendor.
And Air, fire, earth, and water were made even more gorgeous by the bittersweet truth that the only way out was up, that little portending ugliness which heightens the beauty by contrast.
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