Skip to main content

The Rainbow's Promise

In this episode, The Rainbow's Promise . . .

“The visible is the shoreline of the invisible.” – John O’Donahue

Life's journey is rarely a straight line. Sometimes, it throws us curveballs, rainstorms that obscure the path ahead. But what if those very storms held the potential for the most breathtaking beauty?

I witnessed this firsthand during my cross-country drive (across the U.S.) in 1985. From Illinois, my route was Interstate 40, headed towards the promise of California. That third day, the downpour subsided to a gentle shower, as if washing away the past and making way for something new. Ahead, I could sense the brighter future I was driving towards. Yet, the weight of past 'failures' – not finishing college, leaving behind everything familiar – pressed down on me. Arriving in California at 29, without family or friends, was a leap of faith, a raw willingness to start fresh. 

Then, as I descended a mountain pass on Interstate 15, a vibrant rainbow appeared, arching across the sky. The component colors displayed an unbelievable intensity – a fiery red bleeding into a zesty orange, followed by a radiant, golden yellow, a lush emerald green, a deep sapphire blue, and finally, a regal amethyst violet.

It was breathtaking! Nature's display of the magic of white light being dispersed by a celestial prism suspended in the atmosphere. This wasn't a faint wash of color, but a bold, powerful statement that filled my entire view with brilliance. What made it even more striking were the dark, ominous clouds that still lingered behind me, creating a dramatic backdrop that amplified the rainbow's vividness. It felt like a beacon of hope and light emerging from the recent storm.

And then, incredibly, I drove right through it!

In that instant, a whirlwind of emotions—freedom, pure joy, elation—danced with a hint of fear about the unknown. Surrounded by vibrant colors after the gentle rain, I understood that optimism isn't about overlooking the rain, but about embracing the beautiful promise of color that awaits beyond it.

My destination was Santa Monica, California, which shimmered with the promise of new beginnings. As I drove through that ethereal rainbow on the I-15, a shift occurred within me. The weight of past 'failures' seemed to lift, replaced by a blossoming sense of confidence. It was as though the magic of the vibrant colors had painted a new perspective onto my soul.

Starting over in a completely new place without familiar faces had been daunting during that three-day trip. However, driving through that unexpected arc of light instilled a newfound courage. I realized that waiting for life to happen wasn't the answer; taking the first step was.

In Santa Monica, this transformation manifested in a simple yet profound way. I decided not to wait to be introduced. Instead, fueled by positive expectations, I would extend my hand–confidently, a gesture of gratitude for the opportunity to connect with new people.

Each handshake became a small act of optimism, a belief in the goodness of others and the potential for meaningful connections. This proactive approach opened doors I never imagined and filled my life with friendships and experiences that enriched my journey in ways I couldn't have imagined.

That fleeting moment of driving through a rainbow wasn't just a beautiful memory; it was the catalyst for a fundamental shift in how I approached the world and embraced new possibilities.

Reflecting on that journey, I’m reminded that the power to change our lives often appears in those unexpected moments–serendipity–those beautiful 'rainbows' – after a gentle rain.

Friends, seize the opportunity for a fresh start and have the courage to embrace it.

Can you remember when you recognized your independence to direct your life? Take some quiet time and just think about it.

I’m Patrick Ball. Stay curious and ask questions. See you in the next episode.

Labels:

Comments

Don Hanley said…
Beautiful!! Patrick - both the experience and the writing!
May 4, 2025 at 3:14 PM
Patrick B. Ball said…
Thank you. I've held this story for years, and after reading "Beauty: The Invisible Embrace" by John O'Donohue, I must confess it helped unlock the power of clarity.
May 4, 2025 at 3:28 PM
Post a Comment

Most Popular of All Time

On Becoming Real

Some things get better with wear: old shoes, old friendships, and old books. Especially old books. A new volume arrives with crisp corners and a spine that hasn’t yet learned to bend. An old one has been somewhere. It has traveled through time in the hands of people who may no longer be around to tell us what they found inside. The copy of The Velveteen Rabbit (first published in 1922) on my desk is one of those books. My friend Don Hanley gave it to me. This late-1950s Doubleday edition features William Nicholson’s original illustrations and cream paper boards softened by age. Worn corners, a split spine, and colored tabs mark passages worth revisiting. Don didn’t hand me a keepsake. He gave me homework. When we talked about the book recently, he pointed me straight to the nursery conversation between a young rabbit and an old Skin Horse. The rabbit had noticed the mechanical toys around him—the ones with internal gears, bright paint, and stick-out handles that seem terribly impressiv...
Post a Comment
Read more

Engineering Beef Stew

On July 2nd—Day Two of what I call The Great Un-Working —I sat down with my morning notebook to map out this new chapter of my life. One goal made the list in bold ink: Learn to Cook. At seventy, I was adding a skill most people master before they’re old enough to drive. Before you judge me, understand our household ecosystem. Lori is a phenomenal cook. For decades, she’s made meals so effortless and delicious that restaurants seem unsatisfying . My contribution to the culinary arts during my bachelor years–tuna mixed into Kraft Mac & Cheese. Let’s just say I wasn’t threatening her spot on the Food Network. But retirement changed the equation. I’m officially off the clock while Lori is still working. And I had a lovely thought: Wouldn’t it be wonderful if she came home after a long day to find dinner waiting? She loved the idea. Then came the question that haunted me for weeks: “What do you want to make?” I had no idea. Apparently, the first step in learning to cook is deciding wh...
Post a Comment
Read more

When the Universe Calls in Sick

Take Thoreau’s Advice . . .  Four weeks ago, we stood on the shore of Walden Pond in Concord, Massachusetts, trying to channel Henry David Thoreau. Before leaving, I bought a pocket-sized copy of his essay, Walking . It’s slim because nineteenth-century transcendentalists didn’t have notifications interrupting their urge to wander. Thoreau’s counsel is disarmingly simple: step away from modern life's machinery and let the landscape recalibrate your perspective. Back home in Vista, I took that philosophy straight into the backyard. Thursday morning, ink-black, pristine skies arrived. I aimed my refractor at Jupiter, whose light has bathed Earth since mastodons roamed the plains. It felt cosmic. Profound . I left the telescope mounted overnight, convinced the heavens were on retainer for an encore at daybreak. Naturally, the universe called in sick. By sunrise, a wall of coastal fog had rolled in off the Pacific, sealing the valleys beneath a damp, gray Tupperware lid. After about th...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Gopher Problem and the High Powered Solution

Vacationing in Maine this week, just a short drive down the coast from Freeport, it is hard not to think about the outsized impact one frustrated outdoorsman had on the gear we all use today. Bad equipment can ruin a perfectly good day on the water or the trail, but it takes a special kind of vision to turn cold feet into a century-old empire. This is the story of the company we now know as L.L.Bean, but more importantly, it is a masterclass in integrity, learning from failure, and standing behind your work. In 1912, Leon Leonwood Bean faced a persistent problem: returning from expeditions in the Maine woods with cold, wet feet. Instead of complaining, he got creative. He had a local shoemaker stitch waterproof rubber soles onto the flexible leather uppers of a hunting boot. He called it the Maine Hunting Shoe and mailed a flyer promising perfect satisfaction. Then reality arrived. Ninety of his first 100 pairs failed when the rubber separated from the leather. Not an effective product...
Post a Comment
Read more