Perhaps it may turn out a sang,
Perhaps turn out a sermon.

-- R. Burns Epistle to a Young Friend

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

The Lights of Home

The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.  Day to day pours out speech, and night to night reveals knowledge – Psalm 19:1-2

At night, the brightest light around is my own security light.  I had a switch installed on the pole when the Co-op put it up so I could turn it out because sometimes there is something I need more than security.  Sometimes it is important to study in the dark.  Sometimes I get my shaky, goofy little telescope out and peer at red Mars or the moons of Jupiter that Galileo saw or the rings of Saturn so far away.  So far away.

But last night I just looked up standing in the deep shadow of a pear tree to see the luminous spill of the Milky Way, countless burning atomic furnaces unified in an ethereal body to my dull vision.  The many dimensions flooded my consciousness in a flash as I transcended the flat sky illusion.  The nearby wanderers are there with the transfixed blinking beacons that have not moved perceptibly in a thousand lifetimes.  In ten thousand years a man may stand on that same worn spot and see the Plough and find true north. 

Who knows?  By then there may be no men.  There may be only whispering ghosts and ruins.  There may be spaceports and ringed, ringing satellites and levitating, talking dogs and wormholes to Arcturus and Buicks bound for Eden. 

Or there may be a white-haired man walking back to his cottage after a long day in the vineyard, his basket laden with clusters to be crushed, broken, and bottled who pauses in sight of his homely light and gazes upward at mirroring planets and misty fixed fires, who loses in a moment the illusion of a flat sky, whose consciousness is flooded with many dimensions, who hears a luminous and holy ghost spilling stillness and whispering of the Way who still loves the deep shade and studies in the dark.    

8 comments:

julie said...

Oh, that's lovely. I miss the dark, sometimes.

mushroom said...

Thanks.

You've had so much change lately, a dark, quiet night under the stars probably sounds pretty good. 8^)

robinstarfish said...

Yes I can see that. I mean really SEE that.

mushroom said...

A mere reflection of what I see at the Motel.

John Lien said...

Very nice essay. The white-haired man tending his vineyard is the scenario I find most appealing.

There was a beautiful milky way sky the other night over here as well that my wife and I enjoyed together. Probably the same night.

mushroom said...

It could be.

On a related note, I was up very early or very, very late not long ago and saw our old friend Orion checking things out. He said tell you, Hello. He shall return.

John Lien said...

Oh. Brrrrrr. Darkness, cold, never ending....

Rick said...

Ah, to rest like the stars rest.
The last two nights have been cool and clear and we stayed out late watching just the sky. And stars.
And dreaming.

Lovely post, Mush.