Dancing rainbows

Growing up, my parents had three huge windows in their room that took up most of the south-facing wall. In front of the windows, my mom hung round crystals at varying lengths.

One of my favorite childhood memories is lying on my parents’ bed watching hundreds of rainbows dancing around the room. It was like magic. When the sun hit the crystals, it resulted in a room full of rainbows. When the windows were open, the breeze would sway the crystals gently, and the rainbows would begin to move around, darting from one place to the next. It was magnificent. I would lie on their bed in awe. To this day, when I’m having a tough time and want to escape to a safe and happy memory, this is where I go.

A few weeks ago, I was in my office in a bit of a funk.

Nothing serious, just wondering about the purpose of life, what happens when we die, and the immense heartbreak of all the pain and suffering in the world—basic stuff like that. 😆

As I pondered the gravity of it all, I noticed the sunlight streaming in through my office window. Because of how my apartment is positioned, I only get direct sunlight for a few months of the year. As I delighted in my office drinking up the sun, I suddenly remembered that I had a beautiful crystal packed away. It was one of my mom’s crystals that hung in my parents' windows all those years ago. I didn’t bother to unpack it when I moved because of the lack of direct sunlight in my house.

I found the crystal and immediately hung it in my window, giving it a gentle tap.
I laid down on the floor and watched as rainbows filled the room. I smiled inside and out as they danced around, darting from one place to the next.

I don’t know the purpose of life, what happens when we die, or why there is so much pain and suffering. But I do know this:

In the heaviness, there is also wonder.
In the questions, there is also peace.
In the ache, there is also joy.

And for some magical reason, we can experience all of it. So if today feels heavy, take a moment and find even the smallest thing that sparks joy for you. A happy memory, the way sunlight makes its way in, a song, a ripe piece of fruit, someone’s laugh, your cat sleeping, the sound of wind in the trees—notice those little things and let them touch you. Let them delight you.

Because even in the heaviness, rainbows still dance. And maybe that’s what keeps us going.

Have a beautiful weekend, my friend.

Molly