Rejoice in nature. This room is full of light. Even though today it is raining - as in fact it was yesterday and the day before - and a dull grey shroud cloaks the dales, the light is still almost painfully bright. A vast expanse of boundless sky speckled with birds, flecks of black pepper, stark against its monotony. It is utterly still. A sea of yellow petals, heavy laden with raindrops, remains unstirred, not yet dancing. The birds sparkle with song. They, unlike us, are unperturbed by bad weather spirits, allowing nothing so trivial to distract them from their morning office. Their voices twist and weave into a hymn of praise. This second, like each one before and each after, is in the hands of the potter, sculpted for the enjoyment of the one whose eyes are opened beyond damp and drizzle to see glory. Do we not perceive it? Isaiah 43:19.
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