Life is thickly sown with thorns, and I know no other remedy than to pass quickly through them. The longer we dwell on our misfortunes, the greater is their power to harm us.
I always associate the Creator with the wind. On windy nights the chimes hanging on the front porch ring out as the Architect of the universe is making sure I know she’s about, tending to what’s needed. In this same vein I hear the train in the distance, God again. It is these opportune moments that dance with my senses. The smallness, the subtleness of life and how huge that smallness is. Think of the Earth and its inhabitants as compared to the universe; how minute we are but it is this smallness in stature that is phenomenal when you consider the detailed information we already know and are learning about the cosmos.
It is with this in mind that late one night I watched the 1957 film, “The Incredible Shrinking Man”. No, our hero didn’t find a cure as he grew smaller and smaller, everything and everyone he knew, gone from his life, like a fading dream. But in the end, he conquered all emotions of pity and anger. This is why I call him a hero because he’s humble and in awe of the wonderment that is life, large and small, no simple feat considering his predicament. He is witnessing the hidden aspects of life that in the frequency of our evolved brains we fail to see. All in the moment, not what’s wanted, but what’s needed, which is all he had. Even the smallest of creation is sacred and we are bound together, notwithstanding the size.
Et tout ira bien et
toutes sortes de choses doivent être bien
Quand les langues de flamme sont pliés
dans le noeud couronné de feu
et le feu et la rose sont un.
-Petit Gidding, T.S. Eliot