Lightplay 11 – Rainbow

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Dear Reader —

I hope that this Sunday you’ve had space to exhale, relax, and take stock. I know I have.

The election is over. Thank you, each of you who helped rebuke this band of would-be authoritarians, be it by voting, volunteering, giving money, protesting, having hard conversations, and never going along with the worst of it. We did it.

I am going to keep this letter short. There will be plenty of time to explore what it all means. I want to tell you about something I saw yesterday afternoon.

My partner and I were driving east to visit our friends who just moved here. I wanted to finally open the bottle of champagne—Roederer Brut—that I bought before election night 2016 and have been carrying with me ever since.

The streets over were crowded with ecstatic people: carrying signs on streetcorners, standing through the sun roofs of cars, riding bicycles with one fist held in the air. A great honking was underway. And screaming. It sounded like a great victory had just been won. As indeed it had.

We came out from behind a tall building to see spread across the sky a great arch of light.

The rainbow was so bright.

Light like this, it fills you.

For ten minutes—twenty minutes—it spanned the sky.

Finally, where Santa Monica spills onto Sunset, the rainbow began to peter out. A new group of celebrants had taken over the road. We cut off and took back streets.

Soon night fell. We opened the champagne, watched the speeches, ordered pizza, stayed up late talking through our masks.

And once we got home and went to bed, the sleep was deep and sweet.

I wish that for you, too, dear reader. Till next week, stay safe.

Jasper
8 November 2020