Light and reflection

Yellow willows reflected in a Monet-like pattern

Yesterday was one of April's come-outside-and-play days.

I finally left my office just before dinner, picked up my little digital camera, and drove to a near-by public path.

Don't you love these back pockets!

Others had the same idea – families, dog walkers, roller bladers, and bike riders, all loving the same opportunity.

The late afternoon sun uniquely highlighted logs, trees, and rocks.

In the right light, ordinary becomes beautiful

A little girl on a bike grinned as she realized I was taking her photo. A migrating warbler (I think) hovered in front of me, hummingbird-like, devouring invisible insects.

Serious bird photographer

A real photographer, with his camera on one end of a very long telescope, was capturing bird photos. He showed me some of his shots; he was good.

One message from my little walk was that Christ lights up even what appears ordinary and makes it beautiful, special, important. I want to become more aware of what that Christ light reveals all the time.

Universal beauty

Sunset - heading south from Amman

Beauty is universal.

We saw it in the stars over Wadi Rum in Jordan.

About 3:30 am my tent-mate and I, returning from the ladies’ room, paused to look up, and stood there in awe for perhaps 20 minutes. (And yes! Even in the Bedouin's desert there are now tourist comfort facilities.)

Planting our feet in the sand, we gazed up to find the good old Big Dipper, Orion’s belt we think, although it seemed early in the season for the great hunter; and Cassiopia’s Chair. These Mid-East constellations are the same ones I grew up with in Palos Heights, Illinois. Isn't that something to think about!

Reluctantly we gave up counting the infrequent shooting stars as the desert chill drove us into our little tent.

There were dramatic daytime thrills of beauty as well.

Here is another:

Light challenging darkness

And my prayer for the people of Jordan -- that the silver lining be a promise of education, peace, and prosperity for all the country. And why not now?

How many shades of green in infinity?

A busy stream in Vancouver's rain forest

Are there an infininte number of shades of green?

Joan and I took a before-dinner walk in West Vancouver’s “Canyon.”

The trail begins in the city, and works its way into rain forest. No kidding. A soggy, damp and most beautiful rain forest. Stumps, trees, branches – become a fashion show for as many shades of green as possible. Moss and/or lichens cover everything in jade. Just for variety, one forested hillside is layered with dark ivy. Another with bright ferns. The trail is natural mulch.

Everything is green! Everything.

There had been a recent heavy storm. Already cleanup crews had cut newly fallen logs and pulled them from the path. Washed out paths had warning tape across them, with signs pointing to hastily constructed detours.

We met lots of people – many walking, or running, with their dogs. Dogs are so good-natured, thrilled to be invited to go anywhere their people are going.

After a couple of hours, Joan answered my unasked question, “Yes, there is a purpose to this walk. Only a little further.”

Hidden between the mountains and the rainforest -- Capilano Dam. Vancouver’s water supply.

Off to the east pine-covered mountains perched patiently under low clouds. You had the feeling their tops were in the sunshine.

At eye level, hikers leaned on the railings to view the cataract that plunged magnificently, apparently from beneath our very feet.

Mist rises from beneath our very feet

The dam is manmade, and serves its purpose well. But the magnificent mountains, the incredible rain forest, even the "idea" for a dam to store drinking water. These things make us ask with the psalmist, “What is man that You even take notice of him?”

Waterfall Glen and Principle

Controlled burn allows

sunlight to reach the forest floor --

even after the summer leaves appear.

As we walked the crushed limestone paths at Waterfall Glen, my sister made a startling announcement. “Look at all this!” her gesture took in the pond of very vocal spring peepers, the pylons carrying power lines next to a freight train track, and the forest we were about to enter. “God is so Principle.”

“Principle?”

“Umhmm,” she nodded.

Silence as I tried to figure out how this woman whom I love, admire, and respect, came up with Principle, of all things. “And what do you like about God as Principle?”

“Principle is like the big umbrella with everything else included under it. Principle is the structure that allows everything else to work harmoniously. It’s like the pylon that allows power to be delivered to where it’s needed.

It’s like the traffic lights. Everyone knows what the laws are – green you go, red you stop. When everyone obeys the laws, there is order. Not just for you, but for everybody. That's Principle. If somebody ignores the laws, whap! It isn’t that God is angry with you or is punishing you, you just have to obey the laws that are in place.”

We spotted a flicker working the top of a tall dead tree. With binoculars we marveled at his wonderful camouflage -- accented by his magnificent red head.

We marveled at the tidiness of the controlled burn areas. The tree trunks weren’t even scorched. The strangling buckthorn had been vanquished.

Is that what God as Principle does? Sets up a controlled framework that destroys whatever would thwart our spiritual progress – without harming us!

Another week of this weather, and spring wildflowers will dot the forest floors, responding to the warmth and sunlight.

Is that what God as Principle does? Arranges things so that we can thrive in the light of His love?

I’ll be thinking a lot more about God as Principle, and what that means.

New Year's snow frosting

Snow frosting

New Year’s eve brought a light and steady snow all night. Morning light revealed a kind of vanilla frosting on stalks, bushes, branches, evergreen boughs. Deciduous trees and other plants that will be magnificently adorned in summer have needed a touch of beauty to carry them through the embarrassment of having no leaves.

All things stark and skeletal suddenly have a two-inch layer of joyous white fluff.

Translating this lesson of nature for this New Year, why not take one thing that has been bare and unadorned in your life and give it a generous coating of love? Find what you can love about this dormant idea, and love it till it blossoms in the natural warmth of progress.

For me, at this moment, it’s people. People who, at first glance might appear unadorned, have been coming into my life with wonderful gifts of generosity, skill, kindness. I feel that through the message of the frosting, God has been showing me the beauty He/She knows and sees, and is saying, "Look at these pure and good hearts." And afterwards that’s how I see my new friends too.

In the Old Testament, the prophet Samuel had been told to go anoint a new king for Israel. He had been specifically directed to dine with Jesse, a prosperous man with many sons. At dinner Samuel looked at all the assembled handsome young men and made his own assessment about which one would be God’s chosen.

Each time he guessed and asked, "Is it this one?" God said, “No not this one.” Frustration set in. After all, Samuel was supposed to be a prophet; he wasn’t supposed to get it wrong.

The right candidate turned out to be the youngest son, David, who wasn’t even present at the meal. No wonder Samuel had a hard time.

I better understand now what God explained to Samuel, “The Lord sees not as man sees; for man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.”

The cheerful and temporary coating of snow is a reminder that central to each living thing is abundant beauty.

Love never loses sight of loveliness.
Its halo rests upon its object.
One marvels that a friend
can ever seem less than beautiful.

Mary Baker Eddy

Always a beautiful work of art

On the island of Rhodes, I watched an apprentice potter grasp a dull gray lump of clay. He shaped this lump on his spinning potter's wheel, molding it skillfully with his fingers. Within minutes it had become a beautiful vase.

Prophets from 2500 years ago found the clay and the potter a good metaphor for the relationship of man to God. Isaiah wrote, "O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand."

Paul too uses the potter metaphor in his letter to the Romans. He advises against questioning the skill or the motive of the potter. And he addresses the need to trust the potter, and not become so absorbed in our own projects that we miss God's very presence!

I can relate to that. There are many times when with unbridled enthusiasm I have rushed forth with what seemed to me a great idea -- only to realize somewhere down the line when things began to unravel, that I hadn't asked God's opinion.

So I'm getting better at going to God first. With a "God, what kind of pot would you like me to be today? How can I best serve you today?"

As long as it's is my Maker's idea, I've learned I can be not only content, but rather excited about how He/She shapes and molds my day. And maybe that's where the pottery metaphor ends. Because while a vase or a water pot is a completed object, infinite Mind's (another name for God) creation is actively and continuously unfolding. It just never ends.

And so our Maker's purpose for us continually unfolds, providing us with new views, new insights, clearer understanding, fresh opportunities.

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The potter is not in the clay;
else the clay would have power over the potter.

God is His own infinite Mind, and expresses all.

Mary Baker Eddy

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