“Fill everything, but own nothing.

We are vessels, not containers” -

― Dr. Toyin Omofoye

I Can See A Rainbow

I recently travelled to North Wales on a train over the festive break. Over a vast sky, a huge rainbow appeared from my moving window, framing the green (wet) and pleasant land. It was so fleeting I didn’t manage to take a picture; only a faint echo of it remained as I reached for my phone.

The following day, another rainbow appeared when I looked over the lake from the hotel balcony. This unexpected gift was larger and more vibrant than the one I saw from the train. I felt so fortunate - I had a chance to capture it this time.

As I looked at the rainbow, I wondered what our old ancestors might have thought when one suddenly appeared across the sky like this, like a beacon. They, too, must have grabbed their nearest neighbour to say, “Hey, just look at that!"

Capture the Rainbow

When I saw the rainbow, I immediately thought I must take a photo of it before it was gone. I wanted to capture its beauty and make it mine. I took many pictures, but none could replicate accurately the scale or splendour of the event. Although this photo reminds me of how magnificent it was, I could never recreate the feeling of seeing it with my own eyes.

Despite knowing the task’s futility, I spent ages (essentially, the entire duration of the rainbow's existence) trying to get the perfect shot.

Chasing Rainbows

The rainbow shifted and changed over the few minutes it graced me with its presence. Its tail seemed to pour into the lake in some ethereal way - colours shimmering like an illusion above the water and there again plunging and disappearing into the depth of the reservoir.

Can you see? Since every moment seemed subtly new and different, I attempted to capture, record and hold onto them all.

I thought again of our ancestors - those poor folks who never had cameras or phones with which to take a photo. Catching sight of such a phenomenon, would they have simply stood astonished and pondered what sign this was from the Heavens?

Would they have tried to claim the rainbow in their own way? I imagine in a past life (sans phone), I might, with others, have tried to sprint towards it, chasing the tail or diving into the water. To bathe in a waterfall of colour or discover a pot of gold at the end.

Fly Over the Rainbow

As I continued to snap far too many photos of the vista (really, too many), birds came to compete over the crumbs I’d laid out to coax them close. As the rainbow reappeared in the backdrop, I found myself humming that Judy Garland tune, ‘(Somewhere) Over the Rainbow’. No bluebirds came, but a blackbird did; tits (the blue, coal and great), fat robins, the nuthatch and a sparrow. I imagined how it would be to fly like a bird up and over that fabulous arc, so close that one could touch it.

The song is dreamy, but as I sang the lyrics, they started to bother me a little. Where exactly is that somewhere, the land in a lullaby, where dreams really do come true? Skies are blue over the rainbow, are they?

Hmmm... what’s wrong with this slightly overcast sky which allows this fantastic thing to come into being in the first place?

And why would anybody be keen to fly over it, find something 'better' at the end of it, or even capture it on camera like I was doing now?

Red and Yellow and Pink and Green…

As it turns out, I own plenty of rainbows; a sizeable collection of photos live on my phone and in the Cloud. They exist in code and pixels, helping to jog marvellous memories. It doesn’t matter how many I have though; it doesn’t stop the urge to capture more. You see, some are brighter, some are wider, and some are double rainbows. Too beautiful not to capture, you understand.

My favourite rainbow(s) I ever saw was outside the window of my flat; there was no need for a holiday to see one so beautiful.

I have a feeling there will be more rainbows. Yet how many more will I try to capture and hold onto in this curious way? So frenetically that by the time I put my phone down, the rainbows are gone.

I envy people who can stand, stare, and appreciate something so beautiful without the need to capture it. They demonstrate some ability which seems to elude me - to enjoy an experience in its totality without the need to grasp, save, share or validate it again and again.

Next time a rainbow appears, I'm going to try my best to keep my phone tucked away. Let it come, let it go and resist the ownership I crave in between. It will take practice.

Let's practise.