I accelerate onto I-25 for my 20 minute commute to work. I’m in the sun and there are dark skies to the West. WOW! A double rainbow like none I’ve ever seen before! The morning sun illumination of the coming storm; the ends of the main arch radiate disproportionately.
A rainbow is the perception of the colorful refraction of light off of water in the air. A rainbow is seen from a distance. You can never touch a rainbow.
Rainbows have such meaning in various cultures. The Irish legends of gold at the end of a rainbow are testaments to the gullibility of people who would chase after something that can only be perceived at a distance. I reflect on my own dreams that I chase in life and wonder if I am just chasing for that pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.
Then there is the biblical story of Noah and his ark. As the great flood finally recedes, the ark comes upon dry ground. God makes his covenant that such a flood will never destroy all creatures again. The bow in the clouds is forever to be the sign of the covenant. I am warmed by this story given to me as my heritage. I am heartened that the Divine is present in my life and visible on this morning.
Of course I can make anything or nothing of my visit with this rainbow. The center of the arch is directly ahead of me, between me and the Rocky Mountains. I feel like I am heading into a portal that leads me directly to a heavenly realm.
Enough of the other-worldliness. I remember that I can make today a heavenly experience of joy, peace, and love. Yes, the center of that rainbow may very well be my office at the Denver Federal Center in Lakewood. What will I make of today? It is off to a good start, and I have my guitar in the back of my car for a visit with Carl this evening.
Accepting the rainbow as a sign of God’s love, I experience beauty in the world and a connection with others. I appreciate the love in others. I feel stronger, braver, and at peace. Life really is what we make of it. I choose this life and this experience.
What do you choose today?
Love,
David
David Lazaroff is author of Live It Up! 10 Ways to Share Joy When Your Friend Has Alzheimer’s. David coaches family and friends of people with Alzheimer’s Disease in creating a fun and joyful life. Contact david@holistic.com
David is the founder of Holistic Community Living, a Colorado nonprofit founded to operate and teach others to operate neighborhood-based assisted living homes where people can complete their lives with those they love.
There’s a hole in my life and I can hear the echo of it’s depths, but I can’t see it. It’s in a blind spot. Hey!, those distractions are telling me something. Those wandering thoughts are clues. There’s something missing, the presence of which would make a difference…. Passion in my personal relationships. Freely expressing my care and joy for the company of others… my joy for you.
When I am grateful for you, I hold you in my heart. When I remember you, I am uplifted. In a moment, the world appears whole, friendly, and joyful. I am communing with a friend, recognizing love. I am free to hold hands, smile, jump, and dance. Laughter sends from my belly through my lungs and out my mouth, tickling me with life.
Do you notice how much your friends are there for you? They see you as a gift to their life. They’re glad when you ask them to join you in your hobbies, your play, or what you believe in. Even if they decline your invitation, they are glad that you thought enough of them to ask. So, if you find a cause you believe in and are supporting, tell your friends. If you want to see something happen and you are working for it. Tell your friends what it means to you.
The options available today for senior care reflect the commitment we have as a society. If you are ready to accept those options for you, your family, and your friends, then take no action to change the course of senior care. If you like the idea of having something different, if you like the option of having a Holistic Community Living home nearby, then create a commitment to help complete this home. Send me an email (david@holistic.com) and tell me how many people you are committed to bring to this effort, or how much 
It is 2004. Carl is distraught after the morning chant at the meditation center. His head is hanging. “Carl, what’s wrong?”, I ask.
As the next six years pass I learn many lessons about disability insurance, elder law, assisted living, and what people care about. But it is Carl’s eyes that teach me the most profound lessons. As operating a washing machine becomes too complex, we discover the joy of meeting with the owner of the laundry service twice weekly. Carl laughs at this man’s broad Philippine smile and the proprietor laughs at how many pairs of socks and underwear Carl brings in, many only having been taken out of last weeks cleaning and thrown on the floor because of a wrinkle Carl did not like.
If you want to eat healthy foods, then buy healthy foods and fill your refrigerator with them. Eat your fill of healthy foods so there is no room for anything else.
As Carl continues on his journey through life with Alzheimer’s disease, his world changes as if he is moving from room to room in a funhouse at an amusement park: A room of mirrors, then a spongy floor, then walking through a spinning tube, darkness, a moving floor. Each room is its own world with its own perspective and laws of what is possible and what is appropriate.
There are differences of addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division. No, I’m not just talking about math. Some people are making a difference by signing petitions for funding for wildlife research (addition of money). Some people are raising their voices to stop whaling (subtraction of whale hunts). Others are advertising their causes in the mass media to multiply their support while many use language of fear and hate to divide perspectives and disperse their opponents.
One day in 2004 my friend Carl shows me a quote from his spiritual teacher, Swami Muktananda: “Time eats all things. But God eats time. He eats time like chutney.” Carl laughs so heartily at the quote, he can hardly speak.