The tranquil sky, stretching wide across a lingering horizon, painted with the loving hand, and expertise, of one who knows what stimulates, and invigorates, the soul of a man such as myself. I do not suppose the Artist chose to paint it for my pleasure alone (although I’d like to think that) but for you as well. I can only hope that you are awake this morning to embrace it. The expanse that is my view from where I write creates, and enables, a similar expanse from inside me, from deep within the hidden recesses of my faith, and of my sometimes pain, extending outward now, opening my arms to the possibility of the unforeseen, the unexpected, and the mostly undeserved.
The tranquil sky. It is an expanse that moves me to move beyond that which is hidden, that which is broken, in disrepair, or disarray. It is a provocation to rise above the weakness that is my tired body, and the bitterness that is too often in my heart; above that which is frail, that which is decayed (and decaying), that which lays dormant collecting the insincere accolades of its own apathy, and that which seeks to extract the divine from its partnership with my emerging soul.
It is not every morning that the sky opens itself so willingly to me. But when it does, it announces itself like a trumpet call from across the canyon. A man would be a fool not to pay attention.
Thankfully, the heavens are transparent, allowing light to pass through them with little or no interruption or distortion so that objects in the depth of its existence, like the sun, the moon, or the other planets, can be clearly seen, visible for what they are. The sky, I believe, seeks to interweave its nature with our own.
Were the sky, however, to be opaque, like so many people in their self-protective world, it would be impervious to light, dull, impenetrable, and without luster, obscuring even the most significant aspects of its own beauty.
The tranquil sky.
That we all might seek the same transparency.