As you may have noticed with my Maundy Thursday and Easter posts, I have begun to introduce some audio into my posts (as when I read a poem) along with the readable text. I hope you enjoy these.
Over on my Substack essays A Curious Light, I have begun to do the same thing. Each new post will include an audio reading of the piece. The audio is attached to the normal Substack essay with the audio available at the beginning. If you are a subscriber, you will notice this even in the email you receive as my work is published. You can listen right from your email, though I encourage you to go to my Substack, browse around, and leave a comment or subscribe if you like.
If you are more of a podcast mind frame and enjoy listening to things while walking the dog or driving to work or whatever, I have also added a podcast to my Substack entitled A Curious Light Podcast. Each Substack posting will be converted to audio for the convenience of my reader/listeners. New releases will always include audio. I will slowly make my way through my previous essays, though that will take some time, so I ask for your patience. You will also find the podcasts on Apple Podcast and Spotify with a delay of perhaps a day or so.
On this holy day Maundy Thursday, I read for you one of my poems.
Thank you for listening and reading this poem.
You may enjoy my Substack essays entitled A Curious Light. Please give them a taste, it is free, and consider becoming a regular reader/subscriber. Feel free to browse all my essays. If you signup today, my essay The Babbler Among the Wise Guys will conveniently arrive in your mailbox 1 April 2024. I look forward to seeing you among my subscribers.
If you are intrigued by this, then you may enjoy my Substack essays entitled A Curious Light. Please give them a taste, it is free, and consider becoming a regular reader/subscriber. Feel free to browse all my essays. If you signup today, my essay The Incredible Magnificent Wonder of Children will conveniently arrive in your mailbox 15 March 2024. I look forward to seeing you among my subscribers.
On a solitary walk you are never alone for you are there and all the you that ever were, walking into another you fresh made of the day’s own flight.
It matters not where you go, this you now coming down the road this you only now known to you, with eyes aglimmer to behold such infinite treasure in clear light.
A radiance wonderful and much sweeter than any you that ever was, this fleeting glimpse of heaven to amaze, vivid colors dapple painted in wild display, your new eyes seeing another you
than ever you would have known before.
Hope you like this little poem and my watercolor rendering of a nearby park.
You may enjoy my Substack essays entitled A Curious Light. Please give them a taste, it is free, and consider becoming a regular reader/subscriber. Feel free to browse all my essays. If you signup today, my essay God of the Mashup will conveniently arrive in your mailbox 1 March 2024. I look forward to seeing you among my subscribers.
I pull the following from my personal journal 2 February 2024.
To know God. This drives my whole being, to let nothing sully my view, my understanding of the unknowable knowable God who made the whole world and all that is, the origin of being itself, to stand before him or fall as may be the truest place before him. Oh, that he would reveal himself beyond the actions of a day and take me into his chambers, and that I may learn of him for to know him is life itself.
Life itself. The settled place where the world’s distraction has been fully diminished in God’s manifold radiance, where I begin, just begin, to savor his perfection, where the ugliness of so many things is clearly dross, and beauty is seen full face.
Yes, I want to know God.
If these thoughts appeal to you, then you may enjoy my Substack essays entitled A Curious Light. Please give them a taste, it is free, and consider becoming a regular reader/subscriber. Feel free to browse all my essays. If you signup today, my essay God of the Mashup will conveniently arrive in your mailbox 1 March 2024. I look forward to seeing you among my subscribers.
For those of you unfamiliar with my Substack essays, I have a new one coming tomorrow. If you are of a curious mind, give them a look.
The essays appear as A Curious Light. Please give them a taste, it is free, and consider becoming a regular reader/subscriber. If you signup today, my essay What an Amazing Thing will conveniently arrive in your mailbox 1 February 2024. I look forward to seeing you among my subscribers.
So, I was returning to my home through the neighborhood and coming up the little slope as I approached our house and yard. Suddenly a bald eagle swooped down between Dave and Rick’s houses, soaring in six feet above the ground, sailing out across my entire front yard and continuing down the middle of the street, just cruising easy like he does this all the time. Breathtaking.
Moments like this cannot be planned. They just come. They startle us with their magnificence, and we are shaken into an awareness of the raw loveliness and beauty and a thousand other things that make up this world. We are made aware once again that life is more than acquiring stuff or meeting some objective set by others. It is made of splendor and wonder. We all know this, but sometimes it takes an eagle to shake us from our fitful sleep.
The same is true of good memories. I think it is important to savor them long, to hold them in our minds and hearts and let them do their work. It is good for us to remember, especially beautiful things. To let them sink down deep into our souls and soften us. For the world and the pressures of a day seem to harden and rob our tender hearts of those many little joys abounding all the time. Pleasant memories are good friends and we need to bring them along on our journey.
My wife and I often walk in Birch Island Park. It is a relatively small park but a treasure. We usually stop along the western ridge trail looking off to the west. In the late afternoon the sun is making its way and the view is spectacular. We are compelled to stop. It would be an offense to simply rush by without a glance. God has painted another spectacular view and we must see it.
Original photograph taken 17 Nov 2023, watercolor painted 21 Jan 2024
Last weekend we were up north visiting relatives. I had some time, so I pulled out my miniature watercolor kit and dabbled a little. I have shared it above.
It is important for us to stop and consider, to pause in the rush and appreciate the raw beauty of things. This memory is from a photograph that chronicles our countless views from this point along the single-track trail. Oh, it is just a memory but it is a sweet memory and I would not exchange it for anything. We all have these moments. I was fortunate to have a little time to capture mine in a watercolor.
Whether you have watercolors or not, each of us need moments to dabble in, good memories to restore our flagging spirits. We crave these brief renewing interludes for they call us to attend to those things beyond, to think on things beautiful, things carrying the sweetness and touch of the One who made them.
So, what is your view to the west, what good memories touch you and gently and lift your spirit? These are things to make time for.
Henry
If you are not familiar with my Substack essays A Curious Light, please give them a taste, it is free, and consider becoming a regular reader/subscriber. If you signup today, my essay What an Amazing Thing will conveniently arrive in your mailbox 1 February 2024. I look forward to seeing you among my subscribers.
I had run the day before yesterday, and it had been a good trails and hills workout. For most of my run I had danced along with some serious, driving, Christian rock music that had seemed to mirror a wild, crazy streak in my running heart that morning. The sun was rich and pulsating, and I had wanted to cry out like the old song, “You can have all this world, but give me Jesus….” The trails and the day had been gorgeous. And now I wanted another rocking good time with God, dashing through the woods, just as a few days ago. Now it was Sunday afternoon and I had conceived how to slip a run into the remaining day. I was hungry for some trails.
For a few days now, I had been saying to my younger son, “Hey, let’s go for a walk and I’ll show you the woods I’ve been running. You can bring your camera and take some cool shots. It’ll be great!” The usual response was something like, “Yeah, maybe….” So, anyway, I was setting up for my run, changing clothes, filling my hydration pack, grabbing my watch, and then…. “Dad, let’s go for that walk.” What did he say? My thoughts bounced between the run and the walk. My hesitation was no more than a blink of the eye. Of course, the walk; it held far more worth and promise than just another run in my life. Runs are great, but there are things more precious and rare than any run will ever be. This was a special, rare gift to me on a quiet Sunday afternoon. I redrew my ideas for the afternoon, and a short time later we were out in the forest and on the trails enjoying the natural beauty, the trails, and the countless other things to catch the eye and captivate the mind and imagination in a bustling woodland in springtime. We wandered along. I showed him the west ridge trail and east ridge path, the twisting, climbing pathways, drop-offs and quick descents, and the views for the highest points in Birch Island Park. We practiced careening down a loose sand and gravel slope and walked on the railroad tracks because they were there. Sure, we were careful to listen for trains, and we heard bees and squirrels. And we saw the sun, brilliant through the trees, and reflecting full-glorious on the shimmering water of a little marshy lake. And I think our hearts heard things other than words, things shared and enjoyed together, good memories of a quiet Sunday afternoon and a walk in the woods with my youngest.
Henry
If you are not familiar with my Substack essays A Curious Light, please give them a taste, it is free, and consider becoming a regular reader/subscriber. If you signup today, my essay What an Amazing Thing will conveniently arrive in your mailbox 1 February 2024. I look forward to seeing you among my subscribers.
