I must wash dishes and make dinner and call the insurance company and go shopping, as well as daily take on greater tasks of mentoring my children and intervening in sibling fury, reading books aloud and playing games or taking walks and pulling weeds together. And there are the not-musts of mindlessly scrolling through my phone and other habits that compel me to idly think only of small things. I need the Weaver and Master of Light to intrude into my daily thoughts, and this is why I try to start my day with the words of the ancients shot through with the Holy Spirit in that collection of writings we know as the Bible. I forget, again and again, the existence of the Light, and I must make room for it. We are spiritual beings and yet constantly forget that we need spiritual food or our souls whither away and we are left only with a shriveled, confining daily existence.
Friday, June 4, 2021
On the necessity of eating light
There are reasons why I am continually drawn back to certain creators of art, music, and the written word. C.S. Lewis, Madeleine L'Engle, Johann Sebastian Bach. The great painters of the Hudson River School, the Dutch Masters. They weave with the eternal Light of the universe. They reach out and take my face and turn my gaze from the things in front of me, vying for all my attention, to the things farther out that wait patiently and do not demand or coerce. Light, that invites me in and I forget to think of me. Instead my soul and inner being are connected to eternal and invisible things, which become visible as the eyes of my heart are transformed. It is also in this place that darkness is revealed. The Light halts at walls inside me that I do not even know exist, and says "what is this?"