Tag Archives: World

222. Green thoughts emerge from some deep source of stillness which the very fact of winter has released. ~Michael Osler

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I danced in the morning when the world was begun
I danced in the moon and the stars and the sun;
I was called from the darkness by the song of the earth,
I joined in the singing and she gave me birth.

Dance, then, wherever you may be!
I am the Lord of the Dance, said he,
And I’ll lead you on, wherever you may be,
I will lead you all in the Dance, said he!

The moon in her phases and the tides of the sea,
the movement of the Earth, and the seasons that will be
Are rhythm for the dancing and a promise through the years–
The Dance goes on through joy and tears.
~Excerpts from the Lord of the Dance, traditional

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**Photo taken by Natalie on a foggy morning when a blue norther blew in to announce winter’s arrival

The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.  ~Mark 1:1  ✝

221. Breath of heaven, lighten my darkness, pour over me your holiness. for you are holy. ~Amy Grant

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Loving God, help us remember the birth of Jesus,
that we may share in the song of the angels,
the gladness of the shepherds,
and worship of the wise men.

Close the door of hate
and open the door of love all over the world.
Let kindness come with every gift and good desires with every greeting.
Deliver us from evil by the blessing which Christ brings,
and teach us to be merry with clear hearts.

May the Christmas morning make us happy to be thy children,
and Christmas evening bring us to our beds with grateful thoughts,
forgiving and forgiven, for Jesus’ sake.  Amen.

~Robert Louis Stevenson, Scottish novelist and poet

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He has no car, no address, no phone number.  He has no money in his pocket; he doesn’t know from where his next meal will come; and more than likely he knows not where he’ll lay his head to sleep tonight or any other night for that matter.

I know not his name nor where he’s from nor where he is now.  Neither do I have any idea what trials lead this man in the photo to the harsh realities of the streets where he currently exists, but I do know in whose image he is made and to whom he belongs.  And I know that if there is to be any kind of joy in his world or peace in our silent nights, it will happen only with help from those of us who are part of Christ’s body.

In the Father’s eyes this man’s worth is no less than that of any other man, and the story that’s in his eyes is deserving of compassionate ears.  So I pause tonight to pray for this man and those like him.  I pray that all of them find food and shelter as well as a good measure of comfort and peace.  And for my family and you who are reading this, I pray that you all have a most blessed Christmas and a very happy New Year.  “O, come let us adore Him” for He came to save us all.

Grant me the grace of inner sight this day
that I may see you as the Self within all selves.
Grant me the grace of love this day
that amidst the pain and disfigurement of life
I may find the treasure that is unlocked by love,
that amidst the pain and disfigurement of my own life
I may know the richness that lies buried in the human soul.
~J. Philip Newell

How priceless is your unfailing love!  Both high and low among men find refuge in the shadow of your wings.  ~Psalm 36:7   ✝

*The photograph of this homeless man was sent out in an enews bulletin from a local church.

220. In the temple of my inner being, in the temple of my body, in the temple of earth, sea, and sky, in the great temple of the universe I look for the light that was in the beginning… ~J. Philip Newell

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For me, a landscape does not exist in its own right,
since its appearance changes at every moment;
but the surrounding atmosphere brings it to life – the
light and the air which vary continually.
~Claude Monet

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All things in the natural world drink in sunlight, and they are affected by it a number of ways.  When the sun’s warmth touches skin, it creates a pleasant sensation on cold days.  That pleasurable feeling seems to sink down into the depths of human flesh; deeper and deeper it settles until it reaches places normally untouched by sunlight.  Flesh and spirit drink in other light too.  They take in “the light of God and energy itself” so that in an often cold and lonely, dark world the inner flame of our sacred origin keeps the hope filled glow of the eternal alive.

And light begets light, radiating outwards,
unable to be harnessed by any or all,
only a vessel that pours forth affirmation to its origins.
~Scottishmomus, (http://scottishmomus.wordpress.com)

God saw that the light was good, and He separated the light from the darkness.  ~Genesis 1:4   ✝

219. That each day I may walk unceasingly on the banks of my water, that my soul may repose on the branches of the trees which I planted, that I may refresh myself under the shadow of my sycamore. ~Egyptian Tomb Inscription, circa 1400 BCE

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Because they are primeval, because they outlive us,
because they are fixed, trees seem to emanate a sense of permanence.
And though rooted in earth, they seem to touch the sky.
For these reasons it is natural to feel we might learn wisdom from them,
to haunt about them with the idea that if we could only read
their silent riddle rightly we should learn some secret vital
to our real, our lasting and spiritual existence.
~Kim Taplin

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Before the sun fell over the edge of the world yesterday, it painted its recently traversed path with reddish-pink and mauve streaks.  In between the streaks were smaller golden rays that eventually blended into the pinker bands of light.  As these streaks shot up to the sky’s pinnacle, they oozed deliciousness through the open spaces in one of my favorite trees.  It’s a sycamore tree directly across the street from our house, and it’s so old that most of its bark has fallen away.  When it has, as it has now, lost most of its floppy brown leaves the tree’s strange fruits are more visible as area its long, slender alabaster arms, arms that seem to reach up and caress the heavens’ spacious blue lagoons.  Another thing I love about this particular tree is that in winter’s chilling winds its clattering branches seem to whisper prophecies of another spring’s birthing beneath the soil in silent chambers waiting for the prompting of the sun’s warmth on lengthening days and spring rains.

I’m the first one to admit that sometimes I’m hard pressed on difficult days to find reasons to be joyful, but I’m learning to look expectantly as well as long enough to find some measure of God’s glory in the day at hand.  When dealing with a run of painful days as I am now, it becomes not only more challenging but also more necessary.  The Holy Spirit within is the protector of one’s spiritual flame as well as a guide, and so if one turns inward to look for an appointment of grace, he/she will find what’s needed to press upward and onward.  On this day that spark of relief and mercy was found in the beauty of a tree.

This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.  ~Psalm 118:24  ✝

208. It is the life of the crystal, the architect of the flake, the fire of the frost… ~John Burroughs

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We feel cold, but we don’t mind it
because we will not come to harm.
And if we wrapped ourselves against the cold,
we wouldn’t feel other things,
like the bright tingle of the stars,
music of the Aurora,
or best of all the silky feeling of moonlight on our skin.
~Philip Pullman

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After last night’s winter storm, we woke to find the ground, the streets, and the rooftops covered in a solid blanket of sleet mixed with snow.  Icicles were hanging from eaves and other solid objects; branches, stems, leaves and the few remaining roses had been encapsulated in ice.  The forbidding frozen world outside was steeped in silence but for the occasional gusts of wind that sent falling leaves round and round in capricious little whirlwinds tapping softly against the icy ground.

In the coming days the garden will shrink dramatically.  It’s beauty will be harder to see, but for those who continually walk its paths with searching eyes and vivid memories, emerging treasures can be spotted and glory envisioned in places where it was and shall rise again from seeming nothingness.  During the warmer spells in the next few months, I’ll clean up the growing season’s spreading, untidy tangle and reshape her fetching figure while below in her fertile womb mysteries, ancient and sacred, are coming together to birth yet another springtime.

Then the Lord spoke to Job out of the storm.  He said From whose womb comes the ice?  Who gives birth to the frost from the heavens when the water become hard as stone, when the surface of the deep is frozen?  ~Job 38:1 and 29-30  ✝

205. Beauty is the shadow of God on the universe. ~Gabriela Mistral

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A man should hear a little music,
read a little poetry, and
see a fine picture every day of his life,
in order that worldly cares
may not obliterate the sense of the
beautiful implanted in the human soul.
~Johann Wolfgang Goethe

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In her novel, THE COLOR PURPLE, Alice Walker maintains that God gets angry if a person walks by the color purple in a field and doesn’t notice it.  So it is that at one point in the story the main character, Celie, is told to look at the purple flowers and then to embrace their beauty in spite of all the pain and suffering in her world.  She is urged to see the good in them and acknowledge it because God placed them all on earth.  After she learns the lesson, she has more respect for life and what it has to offer.  It’s obvious that God puts a premium on beauty, not only for His own sake but for ours as well.  Since we are made in His image, our souls cannot help but be implanted with a “sense of the beautiful” as Goethe suggests.  Therein beauty feeds us spiritually and like a highway sign it points to God and His goodness.  If we can find beauty, we can find God.  He uses it as a way to speak to us and grow us in His image.

From Zion, perfect in beauty, God shines forth.   ~Psalm 50:2  ✝

197. If insects were to vanish, the environment would collapse into chaos. ~Edward O. Wilson, American Biologist

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A single swallow, it is said,
devours ten millions of insects every year.
The supplying of these insects
I take to be a signal instance of the Creator’s bounty
in providing for the lives of His creatures.
~Ambrose Bierce

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Seldom silent is a garden, not in deep darkness nor when the savage sun sits high atop the world.  In it are creatures that buzz, some that croak, others that chirp, those that squawk, and many a bird that has a pretty melody to sing.  These creatures fly, they hop, they walk, they slither, they crawl, they jump; one of them even prays as does the kind of “beastie” I found hiding in one of my roses last week.   Late in the day I’d gone out to cut away rose growth withered by summer’s siege.  As I reached in the second one to cut what I thought was a dead, brown piece of stem lying flat against a thick cane, it moved and raised its upper body.  Quite alive instead was a mantis hanging comically upside down and peering out at me.  When I realized what it was, I dashed back in the house to grab my camera.  Once back at the scene I took a few shots where it was; then I tried to get it to turn into an upright position.  Despite my repeated attempts, it only conceded a sideways turn which allowed me at least to see that one of its eyes was missing and covered with scar tissue.  Stubbornly determined however to get more compliance, I persisted in my nudging effort one more time. But boy oh boy, this guy had had enough, and it instantly raised its front legs as if preparing to attack the overzealous, annoying, and maddening pest.  So I wisely relented in my efforts, took what shots I could get, and departed.  The mantis was still holding steadfastly to that same cane when I went in at dusk, but by the next morning he had moved on to either a safer haven or one where the prey he was trying to lure with his “dead leaf” appearance was a great deal smaller and less bothersome than I.

Yet I am not silenced by the darkness, by the thick darkness that covers my face.  ~Job 23:17  ✝

196. There is not one blade of grass, there is no color in this world that is not intended to make us rejoice. ~John Calvin

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The moment one gives close attention to anything,
even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome,
indescribably magnificent world in itself.
~Henry Miller

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Against the backdrop of “red leaf and the gold” ornamental grasses shift and sigh in autumn’s chilling winds, and as they do, they add to the landscape an ethereal element with their airy flower panicles, fluffy seed plumes, and striking seed heads.  Even after the initial onslaughts of freezing temperatures, grasses continue to grace the landscape with “fringe accents” by adding subtle colors, assorted textures, and the dimensions of motion and sound.  Throughout winter’s “vale of grief,” undaunted by the cold, they capture and play with whatever light is available, and in their animated swayings they speak of life and give us something “that glimmers in the sleep of things.”  And best of all, the lack of heaviness in their lyrical swishing motions along with their visible seed formations remind us that what’s happening is not an end but instead merely the onset of another beginning.

When He(G0d) thunders, the waters in the heavens roar; He makes clouds rise from the ends of the earth.  He sends lightning with the rain and brings out the wind from His storehouses.  ~Jeremiah 10:13  ✝

193. I know by autumn’s wizardry on such a day the world can be only a great glad dream for me… ~Eleanor Myers Jewett

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The autumn comes, a maiden fair
In slenderness and grace…
In flowers of grasses she is clad;
And as she moves along,
Birds greet her with their cooing glad
Like bracelets’ tinkling song.
~Kalidasa, 5th century Sanskrit poet and dramatist

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A “maiden fair” has autumn most certainly been, but now the gusty, cooler winds of advancing November fray her youthful garments more and more.  The season is growing long in the tooth, and the once slender, grace filled maiden has metamorphosed into a more roughly-hewn grown woman.  Deepening autumn’s brisk caresses and shivering moments continue to take their toll on the landscape, and the growing wildness in her tattered countenance is changing her refined glory into a bewitching, reckless abandon.  Until all her days are gone, however, the saving grace of her now tattered remnants will be the native and ornamental grasses that shift and sigh giving her a new song and her aging visage a pretty, ethereal appearance.

The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God endures forever.  ~Isaiah 40:8  ✝

177. Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life. ~Berthold Auerbach

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All deep things are song.
It seems somehow the very central essence of us, song;
as if all the rest were wrappages and hulls!
~Thomas Carlyle

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I loved teaching John Steinbeck’s novella, THE PEARL.  The main character, Kino, lives intimately connected, physically and spiritually, to the natural world, even more so than I do.  All through the story as he faces his instincts or any particularly powerful thing, he hears a song in his head, and these songs match whatever he’s feeling at the moment.  For example, when he experiences happiness with his wife and child, he hears the Song of the Family.  Or when the scorpion stings his child, he hears the Song of Evil.  These songs are familiar, ancient ones handed down from generation to generation.   Like his people and his ancestors Kino believes the songs give actual form to what he feels inside himself.  As Carlyle put it, he perceives that “all deep things are song.”  I realize not everyone grew up with the same cultural experiences that Kino had, but many of us do hum or sing songs we heard in childhood or familiar tunes we’ve listened to on the radio or TV over the years.  My experience has been that there is a very comforting element in the songs I hear in my head and/or sing, and in some way they do express “the very central essence” of who I am.

The whole earth is filled with awe at Your wonders; where morning dawns, where evening fades, You call forth songs of joy.  ~Psalm 65:8  ✝