I observe the Observatory and it observes me. I often find myself standing before the window and questioning why I was given such a view. It is inspirational to me on so many levels. Perched upon a small hill, existing between residence halls and medical buildings, surrounded by a handful of tall pines, its glowing white dome hovers in the foreground of the sky. It can view so much, for so far, and I am on the same level of it. Not only can it observe most of the city, but it has a window to the heavens. It can view constellations and comets and suns and planets and moons and all the wonders hidden in the inky blackness of the universe. So much can be seen from just a humble observatory. Perhaps it gives me too much inspiration? A room with a perfect view leaves little to the imagination in the realm of empowerment. If my view were to be of a white-washed brick wall, it would be much harder to find inspiration. However, when I eventually find it hidden in a crack or a small vine crawling up its side, that inspiration is all the more powerful. With such a plentiful supply of colors on this canvas of empowerment, I fear the inability to pull magic from a blank slate. As as result, I look a gift horse in the mouth:
I hope this one day never comes. With so much potential being observed every day, I fear for a drought, a day when the sun will not cast light. Observing the observatory has inspired me to never let that happen. Despite all changes, I never wish to lose this guiding light and become stagnant.
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