What is it about the basic things of the earth that bring out the joy in us? Consider the two feet of snow that has just fallen outside. Ask anyone, artist or not, and two feet of snow will create all sorts of wonder. Some will play in it. Some will exercise in it. Some will stare at it. But it is creating life experience in some way or another for virtually everyone.
Snow. Raindrops. Warm breezes. High alpine mountains. Oceans. Sunsets. Dew. They are beautiful. They seem to affect us more than just in their outward beauty. Whatever it is, it gets into us. Moves us. Speaks to us. Calls to us. It separates us from the minutia of life, and draws us to a higher place.
I often think it’s one reason why faith in God used to be more prevalent — people who lived in the middle of nowhere, and connected with the land, the weather, the elements — saw themselves in much better perspective than we do now. They were well aware of how small they were, yet also how vastly miraculous. It seems we’ve disconnected from both ideas.
We are so small. One mountain lion and we’re toast. One cold night in the open and it’s over. The elements remind of us that we are but dust. And they develop a sense of awe, a knowledge of our submission to that which is grander, uncontrollable; master over us. We get to share in its awesomeness, partake of its goodness. Connect with it in our place — insignificant, yet elemental. Part of the beautiful miracle of it all.
And we see in the world a reflection of our beautiful and perfect design. We see the birds fly and the fish swim upstream. We see the trees grow and the rivers meet the sea. We see the balance of the delicate web that is life. And we see our own selves. Our skin, perhaps one of the most brilliant substances ever made — soft, regenerative, sturdy. Our hearts pump a vibrant red liquid full of vitality through our motion-filled bodies. Our vocal chords form the sounds of our thoughts from synapses of energy in our brain. We see. We love. We change. Amazing. Miraculous.
It snows. We breathe. Life goes about living. The earth rotates, spinning through the universe at breakneck speed, but we look around as if nothing’s moving. And we create, as if this isn’t a wondrous event. As if everything in the universe has the ability to create. But other than us, only One creates. Everything else exists within that created realm. We are small. And we are miraculous.
