Your now seldom trodden paths fall under new feet, withstanding each impact of soul and sole, bearing up upon unyielding and ancient rock the weight of another exploration, an adventuring spirit, another of the millions of creatures that you have felt wander across your very spine, and with thoughtless query your impatient question of 800,000 years rises again...
Will this be the one? Will this be only another impertinent and transient creature that errantly uses the earthy mystery of this space for gathering dirt and stone, or ripping foliage aside for consumption, or splattering in fury another's blood upon you hoping you will shroud its evil from detection? Or will this one impede human conquest and domination long enough to pause momentarily, stand still enough - long enough to allow your archaic message to creep from the core of this vain of our origination and stir as deeply within them as it resides within you, the tendril of impervious and undaunted myth that is your message?
NOTE: Written after walking the Blue Hole path in
Her – Sure. I’d like that.
Him – We could go up to
Her – Sounds good.
Him – Maybe we will beat last week’s time!
Her – Why is it always a competition with you?
Him – What? I’m not trying to beat you.
Her – Not me. Why is always about performance, being better.
Him – Huh? Something wrong with wanting to be better?
Her – That’s not the point. Why can’t you just be…
Him – I am…being better!
Her – Not funny. I give up…
Him – Sorry. Seriously, I don’t follow you.
Her – Why can’t you – we – us just be on a hike? Why does it always have to be about performance, accomplishment? Can’t you just be?
Him – Of course. I am being, I guess. You mean like being one with nature? Meditation and all that?
Her – No. Never mind.
Him – Ok. I don’t have to push for a better time. You can lead. You can set the pace.
Her – Fine…
Him – Look, seriously, it isn’t that important. I really just like hiking with you. I like the way you talk about all sorts of things, and I like listening. I really like being with…
Her – Yes??
Him – I just got it.
Her – Good. So we can just hike together?
Him – Yes. But, we still might make good time.
Her – You’re impossible.
- Ellen DeGeneres
- Bertrand Russell
I saw the face of God the other day.
I was in a stranger’s home, where my new work often takes me, and was taken by an unframed painting hanging in the foyer. After dealing with several matters of business, I could not help but ask.
Me: I hate to pry, but who did that painting?
Proud Mother: My daughter.
Me: It is lovely, very moving, actually.
Proud Mother: That one over there was the first painting she ever did. (She pointed toward the dining room)
I am a father. I have seen the ‘firsts’ of a lot of things. My daughter is a good artist, and her first attempts look just like that: efforts that show promise, but lack the presence of an educated and trained talent. This painting showed nothing, and I mean nothing, of being a first, except the first masterpiece. I then heard how this young artist had never as much as drawn a stick figure (beyond childhood), nor shown any interest in art until her senior year in high school. Her family had moved her to
I wish you could see the work as it is now permanently burned upon the canvas of my mind. I wish I could post a photo of it for you to see. I wish that my ability to write could come even within a universe of describing what I saw hanging on the wall in that home. I wish you could feel the chills running up your skin as I did. I wish that every human could see the wonder and awe of the creative moment that she managed to capture. It is pure beauty. I long to describe what I saw, but alas I cannot. I will simply honor the wonder and miracle of that moment when the efforts of a young woman captured for me and gifted me in that moment of time with a glimpse of the Divine.
I saw the face of God the other day.