Find That Shaft of Light

The smoke’s particulates have somehow encouraged fog to lock in on the land. We can see hints of blue sky straight above us, and light is being cast on our living room floor at home, but the scene outside remains gray-white.

I tend to go ever-inward with life’s difficulties. Not one to say much, not one to add busy-ness to my schedule to gloss over the hard, I simplify. I get introspective. I value thinking time above all else. I process. I walk and think. I sit and think. I read and think.

I say no to our culture’s desire to over-entertain us; our era’s compulsion to work for the sake of working; our media’s pull to attend to “friend”ships; our religion’s pressure to serve constantly and attend not to ourselves.

My few belongings get whittled down even more, and I keep our living area open; organized; spacious. Time and space in the present moment are some of the things I value most in life. If there’s anything I am, it is someone who lives for the present. The gift of now is not something I give up readily, especially in times like these. It’s a gift some people think they don’t have, yet it’s a choice few people choose these days.

With COVID keeping us from each other, social media exploding over politics, and smoke truncating what was going to be a beautifully sunny end to summer, I find myself looking for the little miracles still happening all around me in nature – the spark of purple in a hay-brown landscape; the determined traveler making its way across a dangerous sidewalk; or the literal shaft of light beaming through a tiny break in the misty forest. I avoid the negative, process the difficult, and walk in the beauty to replenish my stores.

I used to glean a lot of life lessons from my dog as he’d plunge through enourmous surf to get the ball we’d throw for him again and again. He never gave up. He never looked at the size of a wave, or analyzed how he should enter it or whether he should at all. He never let the momentary fear of being caught in a big swell change his course. And he never let the discombobulation of going over the falls keep him from going back out again. He just kept going – excitedly driven, keeping his mind only on what he chose to see.

In a world that says stay busy, I say be still. Enjoy the simple act of thinking your own thoughts. Of processing. Of noticing all of the little details some see as insignificant and not worth our precious time – a flower, a slug, a quiet silence in a wooded glen – it is often those things that point us to the literal, relational, and metaphorical shafts of light in our lives that are cause for hope; relief; joy. Cause for gratefulness over neediness. Cause for thanking God over cursing humanity.

Yesterday while out walking, I felt like there were a lot of little lessons all around me. I’ll take you through some of the sights, and I’ll let you draw your own lessons. Notice how many colors and textures are exploding in their grandeur, even on a dark, smoky day. All you have to do is look for them; squat down; lie down.

Be.

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