|Out in the desert|
Dawn happens without warning.
Someone knows it.
Dawn “happens”. The great events of life and history simply “happen”. Things “happen. Whatever is, “is”. The simplicityof existence enhances the majesty of the commonplace. “All that exists, exists just to be worshipped”, said Claudel. Ours is now to see happenings as providence, to recognize the painter in the painting, God in the dawn, and eternity in the desert. When we smell a rose, we enliven its existence. When we drink water, we sanctify its course. When we look at the heavens, we consecrate their splendor. We have been placed in the midst of creation so that by admiring it and accepting it and using it and enjoying it we may witness to its greatness and acknowledge the generosity of its gift. Our presence gives meaning to the universe.
And then, while we bow before nature and all its creatures, we elicit also their friendly reaction, and they become ready to help our toil and our suffering, with the manly understanding of the common struggle. Another haiku from the same source: “Trill of a lone bird.
The nightingale does not know
that he consoles you.
If the presence of man and woman had given nature its soul, nature now responds and rewards human presence with the best it has in light and colour and clouds and birds. The trill of the nightingale heals away sadness; the breeze in the afternoon relieves fatigue; the colour of the rose softens the eyes; the perfume of the fields widens the soul. And nature does all this with supreme disinterestedness. Without seeming to realize, to know, to value what it does, doing it simply because it does it, without giving it any importance, without keeping accounts, without asking for a receipt. The nightingale consoles us with its joyful trill, and the rain refreshes us with its gentle touch. The creatures give us back the thought of God we had given them. That is the sacred circle that justifies the universe. Let us learn how to contemplate the dawn. And let us allow ourselves to be consoled by the nightingale. The galaxies are watching. And God is in the midst of them all.
viernes, 15 de febrero de 2013
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