There
had been a few passing rain showers in the area. The skate park, however, was
mostly dry. The sun began to peek-out from behind the clouds. A few moments later a huge, vibrant, double
rainbow appeared in the sky. I thought quickly--it would make a cool/funny backdrop for
a skate photo, esp. considering the whole GLBT thing (I'm gay if anyone is reading blog for the first time). With the rainbow in the
background, Joe took my cell phone and filmed me ollieing over a makeshift
picnic table/box. This is a screen grab from that video.
(Here is a side shot of a different time I
ollied it, so you can get a better idea of the size. It's not small.)
A
little kid, who was about 12-years-old, came up to me afterwards. He looked up
at me with big eyes, and sheepishly asked, “How do you ollie so high?” I laughed
to myself when I heard the question. When I was his size and age, I wondered
the same thing about older skaters. I responded that my legs were stronger than
his, that I was taller than he was, and most of all, I had been skating for a very
long time, and had spent years doing ollies. I told him that if he kept
skating, he would be able to ollie much higher as he grew up, and got more
practice. I gave him a few pointers on technique, and then went to sit in
the shade for a bit.
I
sat down behind the mini ramp, and looked up at the two giant rainbows that
lingered in the sky. I followed their arcs with my eyes, looking to see how far
they stretched, and where they ended. Then it really hit me.
The
mythology of rainbows is that a pot of gold lies at the rainbow’s end. Of
course, no one can ever reach the rainbow’s end. It’s actually quite a stark,
and bleak metaphor: there are hopes and goals you can never reach, no matter
how hard you try. Worse, while chasing phantoms, you lose sight of the fleeting gift that
is right in front of you; the rainbow itself.
“How
do you ollie so high?”
As
a kid, I chased that pot of gold. I wanted to ollie over a crack in the
sidewalk. Then a stick. Then a curb. Then a bench. Then a handrail. Always
wanting to go higher and further. Never satisfied with where I was, or what I
could already do. Always pushing. Sure, there is merit in that. But then a 12-year-old kid asks you a simple
question, and your world changes.
To
that kid, I had the pot of gold at the end of rainbow. The ollie I did was
unimaginably high and unattainable, at least to him. When I was his age, I thought the same way
when I saw people do “big” ollies, or pretty much any trick for that matter (well, actually, I still pretty much think that when ever I see anyone else skating).
Personal
progression is always a part of skateboarding, no matter how old you are. We
always push for longer, higher, faster, or to learn something entirely new, or
relearn something we used to be able to do. We are doomed to forever chase
targets that we ourselves are always moving.
That
12-year-old illuminated something profound. Sometimes it’s better not chase, but
to just enjoy what already is. I sat behind the mini ramp for a while,
and watched the double rainbow fade away to nothingness. Its existence now just
a memory. Another perfect life metaphor. From across the park I heard my
friends laugh while skating a curb. I stood-up, looked at the sky that was now nothing
but gray clouds, and smiled. With a
profound sense of gratitude, I pushed-off in the direction of my friends, and
that simple curb.