Shadows fall beneath a bouquet of flowers on my desk this
evening, softening the features of Jesus and Mary on a small diptychs (icon). The darkening provides shelter and shade
rather than murkiness; a sense of protection rather than menace.
Darkness and light are profound realities, inviting
perceptive interpretations. Sometimes dark isn’t gloomy, but rather mystifying.
Sometimes light isn’t brilliant or blinding, but softening: firelight burned
low into red coals, or pinholes of moonlight or starlight, instilling wonder.
The dimness of a shadow steers us away from absolutes toward mystery.
When morning breaks and dawn’s long shadows promise yet another day of life, they also declare a new opportunity to cultivate a peaceful mind, vigorous body, and spacious, open soul. As evening fades, dusk encourages gratitude for the various lengths of shadows that fell during the day, marking minutes and hours of benevolence and provision beyond what we can grasp with our rational minds.
When morning breaks and dawn’s long shadows promise yet another day of life, they also declare a new opportunity to cultivate a peaceful mind, vigorous body, and spacious, open soul. As evening fades, dusk encourages gratitude for the various lengths of shadows that fell during the day, marking minutes and hours of benevolence and provision beyond what we can grasp with our rational minds.

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