Dichotomy- This morning, I left for work a little late. I found myself behind one of those large sixteen-wheeled cement mixers, and started thinking about passing, as time was at a premium. Just then, the sun came up over the mountain, casting light into the cloud of powdery snow that the truck was stirring up its rather substantial wake. It was stunning. If you've ever seen a powder snow rainbow while skiing, you know what I mean. It was like the air itself was sparkling in iridescent, billowing shivers. I was for a few minutes transfixed and oblivious to my tardiness.
But as suddenly as the rainbows appeared, they were replaced by a brown, almost impossible to see through mist. The road had been salted and sanded from a crossroads, and the tires that had previously tossed virgin snow skyward were now kicking mud and dirty, salty water all over my windshield.
As I realized that I was, in fact, even more behind schedule than I was at the start of my commute, I flicked my windshield wipers on. They pushed the brown ooze off so I could peer through the concrete truck's mucky wake to the road ahead. Speeding to seventy to avoid oncoming obstructions more substantial than the dirty mist, I pulled around the truck, back into clean air, and onward to my destination.
From one can come both beauty and the bestial, you just have to know when to stay around and when to move on.