“God writes the Gospel not in the Bible alone, but also on trees, and in the flowers and clouds and stars.” -Martin Luther
Kneeling or sitting by the window in the dark or with a lite candle, arms crossed over the sill. Open the window and a blast of cold air rushes in as you shiver. But this chill warms the heart, as the evening’s set for magic. At other times of the year, it could be a rainstorm or a warm southern breeze greeting you upon the ceremonial opening.
And what of the friends waiting for you on the other side of this magic window! An owl perched on the branch of an oak ready to dispense her advice for another evening; an eagle calling his mate in the distance where the earth and sky embrace. Or a squirrel scampering for one more acorn before winter sets in. What else is heard pushing through newly fallen leaves, the neighbor’s black cat or an unknown presence visiting from long ago? And you intuitively know that everything you see in this land of evermore has a deeper more profound meaning.
What would I do if I had such a window? Why I’d question and wonder about everything under the heavens and beyond the stars and when I found the answers, I would ask even more questions as such contemplations seem to ensure. But most of all I’d sit in reverence within the moment, a total at-one-meant with everything I see and feel.
And what of this magic? Why it’s the same magic that brought you into this world. The same that gave you your first kiss. The same that got you through the death of your father. The same magic that gives us the moon and stars and the heavens above. It is here and a million miles away at the same time. It speaks to us but yet is silent. It is a part and is the whole of everything.
Yes, everyone needs a magic window, a threshold to everything that is and will ever be.