Paradise Found

The dictionary description for paradise is a place or state of bliss, felicity, or delight.

When I told people I was going to be in Hawaii for a month in the early fall, many were a little envious. To so many, Hawaii is a common definition of paradise. I think most of us seem to relate “tropics” with “paradise”. I did too, at one time. I’ve done a fair bit of traveling the last couple of years and have seen my share of paradise along the way.

Hawaii wasn’t falling into that category for me, and honestly, I really wasn’t looking all that forward to going. I was experiencing a little “travel burnout” and I wanted to stay in Boulder to watch the season change. Things were also going pretty great with a certain someone special in my life, and I didn’t want to leave that – even if it was ‘just a month’.

I did end up missing the best of the fall colours, but I didn't miss the first snow. The night before I left for Hawaii it was snowing up at my boyfriend’s house – at 9,000 feet – and about 6-7" had already accumulated on the ground. The snow dusted pines were so incredibly gorgeous as they rose up the mountain-side. I couldn't help feeling all giddy. I was hoping that there would be such a major snowfall overnight that we would be snowed in and my plane grounded. Didn't happen, so, still under a blanket of darkness I made tracks in the crisp snow and headed down the mountain for the airport.

Hawaii. Is it paradise? While it is quite beautiful there, it never really changes much. It’s always 80-something Fahrenheit and humid. They don’t even observe daylight savings since the difference between summer and winter sunset is only 20 minutes. Kailua-Kona is a small town and the infrastructure surrounding it is far behind its growth. The traffic is horrific – not to mention the drivers. And really, it’s an island. It can get small pretty fast. IMH week is really the best time to be there. Any longer, well, it’s just too long. I was there for a full month and the best time I had was catching athletes at the finish line on IMH race day.

Okay, I'm wrong. Another great day was when I did the Kukio Blue Water swim race. That was a blast. It was also really nice having my Mom there for a couple of weeks.

When I arrived back in Boulder, the cool dry air was immediately refreshing beyond words. I felt alive and inspired. The closer I got to the Front Range on the drive home, the more energy I felt building up inside me. The more I knew without a doubt, I was home. I was where I wanted, and needed, to be.

The next day I suited up for a bike ride – my first ride in a month. It was just a spin – a sightseeing ride at best. The air was cool and the sun warm on my skin. I looked west to Boulder’s infamous Flatirons. At their base stood yellow, orange and red-leaved trees resisting Father Winter as best they could. Over their heads rested a deep blue heaven. Have I ever seen anything so beautiful? Perhaps, but not in recent memory. It’s been a long time since I've experienced seasons other than spring and summer. Even when I lived in Vancouver, fall was beautiful though not quite as colourful – not as many deciduous trees on the west coast.

I couldn't help but smile – an ear-to-ear smile that would not budge, nor did I want it to budge.

The next day I went for a run about an hour before sunset and was nearly stopped in my tracks by the beauty this world possess. A road ran through a cut in the rocky mountainside. The eastern facing rock wall was lit with a soft autumn glow from the sinking sun – a stark contrast to its surrounds. Below the glowing rock face was a rolling valley of tall green pines, and beyond the pines shot up a rugged treeless range of peaks blanketed by fresh sparkling snow. Deep blue, the deepest blue I've ever seen, framed the entire scene.

I smiled all the way home. Coming up to the house I could see a soft billow of smoke rising from the chimney. I opened the front door, stepped inside, and felt a deep sense of peace. I felt as if my entire body smiled as the warmth of the fire inside wrapped itself around me. That, to me, was paradise.

Paradise, like art, is in the eye of the beholder. To me, right here, in Boulder, Colorado is paradise. Not some tropical island with warm clear blue oceans full of brilliantly coloured fish. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention how much I loved the clear waters and tropical fish. Like most things, paradise is simply a matter of personal perspective. Perhaps paradise can only be seen or enjoyed in the right frame of mind, with the right company, which, simply leads back to perspective. Perhaps paradise is the same as home. Remember the old adage, “home is where the heart is.”? If paradise and home are one in the same, then I am in both. There can be no place better than home in paradise, can there.

26 October 2004

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