The Gate to Reassuring Renaissance
A view of the Lion’s Gate Bridge taken at Prospect Point in Stanley Park, Vancouver, BC.
The moment that changed everything.
Sunday August 9th, 2015. Approximately 10:15pm. The palpitating sounds of ire raindrops plummeting the grim like surface mixed in with the rambunctious echo of swirling thunder clouds and the menacing melody orchestrated by scathing wind currents walloping at the mercy of tyrannical climatic overlords, gave me the impression that the man upstairs was not too happy. I slouched in my seat as I heard the news that our flight was delayed by an additional three hours.
I looked to my left, then to my right. The terminal waiting room was overflowing with passengers. Each one of them presumably overwhelmed by a state of restlessness, but you could not detect it simply by the look on their faces. The energy in the room had been drained out, like yanking a drain stopper from a bathtub full of water. We had been biding our time for nearly seven debilitating hours. Vancouver was another five hours away.
As I gazed out the window, the eerie sights of the outside world were obscured by impenetrable fog, casting a clouded notion on what was to follow. After nearly 13 years of refraining from air travel, this further ingrained in me the belief that this was just not worth it. I could hear my mother on the phone, with my father, debating possible alternatives if the situation were to take a turn for the worst (which, in my eyes, it already had), while I canvassed the premises for an outlet to charge my flimsy Motorola. The only alternative I yearned for was to go back home. Back to a life of infinite inevitability and compliancy, just what I was accustomed to.
Tuesday December 17th, 2019. Approximately 5:45am. The serene surrounding environment made it nearly impossible for one to stay awake. Staring out the window at perpetual darkness with gleaming heavenly bodies scattered across the night sky provoking abstract cosmological conceptualizations, did not help in the slightest. As I dozed off, a cool breeze nimbly graced over my bare facial skin, stimulating the revitalization of my consciousness. Where did I find myself this time? In the terminal waiting area, observing an Air Canada Boeing 777 take to the heavens, while waiting for the arrival of my 7:05am flight to Vancouver, ironically enough.
The forecast suggested the possibility for a potential downpour however, a mediocre sprinkle of drizzle was all that my weary eyes could discern. It seemed like the impenetrable fog and scathing wind currents were relishing an early morning tea party session (one out of various plausible propositions) as their ominous, and often vexatious, presence was inherently absent.
I looked to my left, then to my right. The aura of the terminal waiting room was relatively composed and, to some extent, reassuring. Everyone was locked in their respective “zones.” Some had dozed off into dreamland. A group of children were in the midst of a very suspenseful and nail-biting game of tag (one almost tripped over me). Others turned to their neighbors and exchanged affable pleasantries.
The ambiance of the terminal waiting room was reminiscent of a local community charity event. I felt as if I knew each and every individual, personally. Maybe it was the effervescent atmosphere that, undeniably, blossom’s during the festive holiday season, that was making this journey feel much more reassuring. Or maybe, it had little to do with the passengers that were within proximal range of where I was situated. Maybe, it had everything to do with the change in my innate cognitive perception of my surroundings.
Present day. The image above is a product of the shift in perception that commenced within my life, a while back, translating into one of the root sources of my endless devotion to rekindle a resurrection of unprecedented and unparalleled perspectives on the ethos of human connection. The resurrection of such unprecedented and unparalleled perspectives has ushered in a “rebirth” of ideas that have steered me to unearth that which had been sequestered for far too long: my purpose.
No longer do the intimidating sounds of tribulation and defeat administer authority over my conscious thought process. No longer do I perceive being held captive by delayed gratification as a rationale for throwing in the proverbial towel. No longer does the likelihood of peculiarly contentious episodes of humanly derived chaos and discombobulation avert my attention from the pot of gold situated on the other side of this precarious rainbow.
I had peregrinated over this 1, 823-metre-long suspension bridge on several occasions, overlooking its momentous architectural magnificence however, it was only on my latest trip that I had taken the opportunity to fully embrace the presence of this 82-year-old prodigious structure. At that moment, I realized that this image no longer had to be seen for what it merely was. To me, this image could represent anything I willfully yearned for it to represent.
To me, this image encapsulates the impeccable soul of one of the most radiantly mesmerizing cities Canada has to offer. The urban lifestyle, the natural scenery, the lucrative treks up mountainous trails, the spiritually invigorating ferry rides along the Pacific coast, the unwinding road trips along the Sea-to-Sky highway, from my initial to my latest visit, all these elements are intricately woven into the symbolic “rebirth” on my perspective of this daring image.
The distinction between the insecure adolescent who, four and a half years before this photo was taken, fell prey to the slightest hiccup in the road and the man who, four and a half years later, captured this image was that the man’s motivation was, at one point in time, his shortcoming. The integration of photography within my life has unequivocally accelerated the manner in which I perceive, appraise and converse with my surroundings and with those who inhabit these surroundings. It has ignited a renewed sense of being within me, one that has transformed each additional transient moment into a profoundly refined way of life. And for that, I have the man upstairs to thank.
