Today, I entreat the magical innocence of wishful thinking when my cousin heard of her five-year-old daughter say in verbatim when in a trip home they saw a rainbow: “I want to go to the end of the rainbow because there’s a treasure in there.” The young lady who happens to be my goddaughter – and by God, a gift no one can deny; perhaps the only ones I can get in view of the future celibate practice I have yet to further discern – must have thought that the post-natal vacation of her mother is a 20-hour (more or less) treasure-hunt drive. The adults would have disclaimed such easily – that there are no leprechauns and fairies (or fairies who have tails) – but because there’s so much beauty in the brain of a child, leaving her to her pensive naivety is bliss.
While post-romantic traditions discredit the charm of nostalgia, innocence brings to life a lot of memories, a meaningful message. For aren’t messages once believed to have been delivered in a divine passage through Iris, the Greek personification goddess of the rainbow, the messenger of the gods, who would have rang a bell for the young Hailey if she knew, and would have stretched further her imagination? Iris paid tribute to the fact that at the end of communication, no matter how distinctive, variedly depicted in the ambiguity of colors, or how silent it expresses itself, there is meaning – a celestial message, a trophy to be sought. When Hailey would reach the age of reason, typically around seven as studies might claim, I do hope that she would keep that disposition in her heart.
The old ones not having to correct such is not the Platonic concept of a noble lie that authorities should make people believe to prosper and preserve the state. It is rather that children have to be left in extending their thoughts to what remains to be ideal and far beyond what eyes can barely attest. It’s like the retina of these little angels only emits the message of hope, of wonderful beginnings; reminders of the abandoned stage adults once repressed. They who had the sharingan for the Transcendentals of Being, i.e. whatsoever is true, good, and beautiful (cf. Philippians 4:8), not only does their brightness precede them but they are also our future light. Their eyes function like a prism recognizing the color in things, even to what is not said or beyond what they are shown, a blessing indeed of humankind – the Luck of the Iris everyone withstanding the test of time still has. Let the noble lie dwell for only the nubile, but not to these pristine humans that we were and still are.
Following this track of genuine identity, the lyricism of Iris by Goo Goo Dolls exhibits the same vein of wanting everyone to recognize this beauty of a soul residing in humans. Abandoning eternity for a while, for a place close to heaven, a retraction towards home, the song emotes that beneath the shrouded brokenness of fallen humanity, in a society that points out flaws and brings out alien chemistries within oneself – rendering one invisible and hoping that one remains with it – nothing can break who we really are in our ideal perfect selves locked in our dignities as persons.
It is of fervent discovery to further probe that the song is the official soundtrack of the 1998 film City of Angels, setting a fictional find that fills the missing piece of the other words in the lyrics. Away from the perspective where no one can fight the tears that will not be coming, the moment of truth in lies, and the deceiving feeling of romantic comedies like in the movies, one does not need the perspicacity of an angel to say that the human spirit, no matter how many bloodshed it has witnessed, is nonetheless alive and kicking in the end. This buoyant resilience remarkably spells out the fortune nobody can take away, the luck of the bold, and the strength of those who fight for the meaning of what it means to be – for everyone and no one.