It is sunny. 70 degrees Fahrenheit. There is a cool breeze. The breeze rustles the leaves on the trees rhythmically. Everything outside seems to be swaying in time, like the earth is dancing to an unknown synchronized routine.
There is something divinely inspirational about this weather. Despite being in Chicago, surrounded by millions of people, I don’t seem to mind. I notice that I don’t seem bothered by the fact that I sat on the highway for 45 minutes. Instead of feeling the overwhelming desire to get away from all these people and relax in the sanctity of my home, I find I am overcome with the unexplainable urge to wander the city, see the sights, and blend in with the hum of the giant machine.
Instead of feeling called to my responsibilities, I feel like staying outside all day. What time is it? I don’t even care. I want to go to the beach; walk, run, explore. I want to find the secrets between the skyscrapers. I want to sit in a park and draw, paint and write.
I sat in my car and didn’t feel irritated or annoyed by all the cars and bad drivers around me. Someone cut me off? Sure, no problem. Go ahead. I missed a green light because that Camry wasn’t paying attention? What’s the rush?
Never mind the fact that my pasty complexion would quickly turn a sunny day into a disaster, or the fact that my weary body would tire after a few hours of walking, running and exploring. These things don’t seem to matter today, because the sun is out, and it is 70 degrees with a cool breeze.
What is it about this weather that is so perfect? It is not too hot. When it’s too hot everyone is crabby and in a hurry. The incessant honking fades into the background. The yelling, loud music, and construction all become silent. All I hear is the sunshine and the breeze. 70 degrees with a cool breeze makes me forget the need to rush. I just want to be in the sunlight and take in all that surrounds me.