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Hello. I'm Sean and I live in Japan. I'm glad you've come because I need you to do something for me.

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Thursday, November 18, 2010

Learn the Spectrum

I would like to dedicate this post to Christopher Luke Zweerman. Although I didn't know him as well as others, our interactions were always friendly and jovial. He liked to joke, have fun, and could stop a puck or two if you got him in equipment. RIP, Chris, you'll be missed.

The main content of this post was originally found at the very end of my previous one. However, it never really flowed with the content of that last blog and for obvious reasons seemed like a disjointed tac-on. Thus, with much deliberation, I have decided to move it here on its own. Yet, as not to completely make this a stale post, and reward those who are here that read 'essentially' this last time - I've included a limited edition, crudely drawn, photo of excellence at the bottom.

We begin,

In a very cliche way, I've recently become a little more introspective than normal. I believe it's a direct consequence of living through this 'empty' period of time before a great adventure. I don't know how to directly explain what I mean by this, so I will explain it the best I can by using an example.

About two weeks ago I went out for a walk in the rain. This was before daylights savings time had kicked in, so when I left around six, the sun was still in the sky (allbeit hovering omniously close to the horizon). As I was trudging through a muddy field in my rubber boots, I was by chance, fortunate enough to be heading west.

What I saw may have been one of the most unexpected, most beautiful things I've ever seen. As the sun was setting on that rainy evening, it was casting a crimson red back-glow to the thin grey cloud cover of the horizon, tapering to a blazing orange where the sky met the ground. The effect, in essence, was a sky on fire. It honestly looked as if someone had taken a match to a kerosene rag and stuck it to the heavens. In that moment, as I stood alone, I was left wondering if I could truly be the only one taking the time to appreciate this spectacle.

Sometimes you are left asking yourself: is this reality mine, and mine alone? Honestly, I don't think it can be. Yet, that is the problem when you are forced to examine your own mind: some of the conclusions you reach are not always what you would expect.

It is a sad thought to believe that the full glory of the moment was wasted on a single person. Therefore, instead, I will approach it with the mindset that I was lucky enough to witness it - and the honour was all mine.

Love the little things, even if they seem so inconsequential at the time; you never know when you will have the chance again.

RIP Chris.

Now as promised, here is a picture, hand drawn by me. I used all the materials at my disposal to really set the mood, and make it as realistic as possible. Furthermore, it's educational - so you can show it to your kids in the future, and they'll know... what alcohol does to your brain.

Now that's what I call shading!

Thanks for Reading,

Much Love,


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