Friday, April 13, 2007


The best flowers open high on craigs, in tiny seconds of sunlight amid the busy breathing mist. They are solitary, like the spiritual revelation of a monk, alone in his cell, lost in prayer and fasting. The best songs happen when no one is looking, or listening. I didn't win the contest yesterday. I didn't even make it out of round one. Now that that's been said, let us not dwell or attempt to justify. But I must say that I was glad for the chance to share a couple songs with people in the audience, and a bit disappointed to miss the chance at sharing a couple more, having saved up all the trump cards for the final hand. But now I remember those moments when I've childishly intoned, "Watch me!" and then made numerous failed attempts to perform my circus-quality leap from the low diving board. No wait, that wasn't right. I need to do it again.

I always take two or three (or four) shots of the same thing when I'm out taking photos. The shutter clicks and I race to set it up again, fearful of missing the just-right lighting, the birds in the tree just so - all the while selfishly begging the Master that one will turn out to be the masterpiece I want to see on the other side. Partly so other people can share it, partly so I can claim some sort of bastardized responsibility for something great. But, let us imagine for a moment that all my efforts were not in vain. That, in fact, they were all great successes. Let us further imagine a boy who never had to grow up, a six-foot Christopher Robin, doling out hooks and lines to draw in every possible compliment.

Under three things the earth trembles,
Under four it cannot bear up:
A servant who becomes king,
A fool who is full of food,
An unloved woman who is married, and
A maidservant who displaces her mistress.

-Proverbs 30:21-23

But, however, the successes are sometime, and, most certainly, are not my own to claim except with the claim of a shovel on a hole.


Post a Comment

<< Home