My father was something of a rainbow-chaser.

The words of Marc Davis—“My father was something of a rainbow-chaser”—shimmer like the very image they describe: elusive, luminous, and filled with longing. On the surface, it is a son’s tender reflection; beneath, it is a portrait of the dreamer’s soul, one who spends his life pursuing visions that glimmer just beyond reach. To be a rainbow-chaser is not to be foolish, but to be brave enough to believe that beauty is worth the chase—even when others see only illusion. It is the spirit of the seeker, the artist, the wanderer, who dares to follow wonder wherever it leads.

In the ancient way, such a phrase would have been spoken of the poets and adventurers who refused to bow before the boundaries of the ordinary. The rainbow was, in every age, a sign of mystery—a bridge between heaven and earth, between the seen and the unseen. In chasing it, one does not seek to possess it, for a rainbow cannot be caught; rather, one seeks the journey itself, the pursuit of hope in a world that too often grows gray. Thus, the father Davis describes was not simply chasing colors in the sky; he was chasing meaning, beauty, and the eternal whisper of “what if.”

There is a power, both noble and tragic, in such pursuit. Many have walked this path—driven by visions that others cannot see. Consider Christopher Columbus, who set sail not upon calm seas of certainty but upon the restless ocean of belief. He chased a dream, a golden horizon he could not prove existed. To some, he was reckless; to others, he was chosen. Though his voyage brought both discovery and destruction, it remains a testament to the perilous beauty of the rainbow-chaser’s heart: one that reaches beyond the known, accepting both glory and consequence as the price of wonder.

Yet there is tenderness, too, in Davis’s words—a recognition that not all who chase rainbows find gold. Some find disappointment, failure, even loss. But the ancients would remind us that failure in pursuit of wonder is no failure at all. Better to reach for color and fall, than to live forever in the dull safety of gray. For what is life without longing? What is existence without the daring to dream beyond the visible? The rainbow-chaser lives on faith that somewhere beyond the storm, light still bends into beauty.

To call his father a rainbow-chaser, then, is not mockery but reverence. It is to honor a soul who could see splendor where others saw only sky. Such men and women keep the world alive. They are the inventors, the artists, the explorers—those who trade certainty for vision. Without them, progress would wither, and wonder would die. The father’s dreams may have seemed impractical, even impossible, but in their pursuit, he lived vividly, courageously, with a fire that defied the dullness of mere survival.

And so, dear listener, take heed of this wisdom: it is not shameful to chase rainbows, so long as you remember that the journey itself is the treasure. The path of the dreamer is not always easy, for the world often scorns what it does not understand. Yet the ancient sages would say, “He who follows beauty will never walk in darkness.” To dream is to live; to hope is to breathe; to seek is to become. Even if the rainbow fades before you reach it, the light that touched your eyes will remain forever within your soul.

In the end, Marc Davis’s words remind us that the true measure of a life is not how firmly one’s feet stay on the ground, but how often one’s eyes turn toward the sky. Whether your dreams are of art, love, peace, or purpose, do not let the fear of failure silence your pursuit. Be something of a rainbow-chaser yourself—walk toward the color after every storm, let wonder be your compass, and let courage guide your steps. For those who dare to chase the light, even fleetingly, live not in shadows—but in the glow of the eternal dawn.