Seeing the Small is Insight

Steinbeck once said he was born lost and had no interest in being found. I think I understand that comment.

I feel that way at times. Well, in the sense that it’s nice now and then to mentally, and if possible, physically, get lost and leave the chaos and the absurdity of the nonsense around us.

The moral and social fabric of our country is in alarming need of repair. One can only stand staring at it for so long before panic sets in and the ground opens up in some yawning gloom of darkness.

I picked up an acorn cap the other day while walking. You know that little textured hat that sits on an acorn? They are elaborately constructed if you take the time to look at them. And they all fit so perfectly on top of the acorn. It’s quite a tiny miracle when you realize that the acorn produces an oak tree.

The ancient mystics wrote, “Seeing the small is insight.” What could we learn from that?

We live in an obsession with bigness. Everything is bigger in Texas, we say. Why is that impressive? We have big buildings in big cities and though they are often incredible to look at, so what? When the Twin Towers were destroyed by terrorists we had to build a building even bigger. Why? Wouldn’t the 911 Memorial with its quiet, majestic fountain have been enough?

Did we have to cover our insecurity with a Tower of Babel? Is the giant Freedom Tower, the tallest building in the Western Hemisphere, that replaced the Twin Towers in New York City, a display of our ingenuity? Or is it an image of our fears of being threatened again?

Today, we have our giant missiles and huge machines of warfare that cost billions of dollars to maintain and operate. Are they necessary? What do they tell us about ourselves?

I read the other day where the Ford Motor Company will stop making compact cars and sedans other than the Ford Mustang. Every other vehicle they make will be an SUV or a truck. Smaller is out.

What is our compulsion with bigness? Is it supposed to somehow canopy our smallness? Are we not able to live in the reality of our genuine human limits? We do have them.

This is not to in any way diminish our potential, or to stop the progress of imagination and ingenuity. It is simply to realize there are times when we need to honor what is small and revere it and not be threatened by our own littleness in the context of our larger world. We are to be caretakers of it, not owners.

Are we in danger of experiencing what poet Adrienne Rich called “a life of passive drifting and dispersal of energies” because we want too much, because we crave the bigness of things instead of an expansive interior life?

Might the realization of our smallness be forced upon us? The World Health Organization (WHO) predicts a mysterious contagion is out there and it might eventually kill 30 million people across the world. It's called "Disease X" because they haven't yet identified it. But they believe it is coming. We have been able to contain the Ebola virus, MERS (Middle East Respiratory Syndrome), SARS (Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome), and the ZIKA virus. But the WHO says this new one has the potential of creating a catastrophic international epidemic.

Could such a disaster bring us all down to size?

Rumi wrote, “There are a hundred ways to kneel and kiss the ground.” All of them put us in touch with an extraordinary grandeur beyond ourselves.

Pick up an acorn and study its cap. Perhaps it would be a good thing to identify with it, to get lost for a spell in our smallness. So that before we are awed by a tree we understand the value of a seed.

If I had five minutes to evacuate--what would I take with me?

If I was told there was a bomb in my building and I had five minutes to evacuate my apartment I’d grab a grocery bag and quickly toss these items into it: 1. A photo of my grandparents, Mom and Pop and me, when I was 15 years old. I learned what love is made of from them. I learned what it is to be kissed on and hugged in arms so tender they felt like God’s arms. I discovered self worth from those two angels in human flesh. Of all the people in my life, they were the ones who made me feel I counted. Honestly, whatever capacity I have to love others came from them. 2. A sentimental, dog-eared, stars in the margin copy of Pat Conroy’s, “The Prince of Tides.” It is a book I have read three times and often return to for its wisdom. It is a harsh, profoundly tragic novel, the story of a family so broken and tortured by such flawed and wounded people that it is sometimes difficult to turn the next page. And yet it is the story of such Herculean courage and endurance that you want...

I Saw the Delicacy of Life

I was flying Across the deep And I saw the delicacy Of life Wrinkles on the faces Of the old So pure they glistened Like awards The joy of children Running with abandon Their laughter ringing Like chimes in the wind I saw the soft moving waves Across the sea And the trees releasing Their rainbow leaves Birds joined me on my flight And I saw the surface of their wings Adorned with patterns Glorious and unfurled I saw the tears of the sad And the smiles of the glad The suffering in mourning And the celebration of birth As I descended toward the ground Slowly, slowly, softly I saw the gentle grass of the field And smelled the fresh earth It was a perfect landing © 2018 Timothy Moody

Actions Make a Difference

“We make progress in society only if we stop cursing and complaining about its shortcomings and have the courage to do something about them.” ~ Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, Physician/Author Pictured here is Kikuko Shinjo, 89 years old, a survivor of the Hiroshima atomic bomb blast. As a 17-year old nursing student she helped nurse victims of the carnage back to health. Many of them died in her care. She says she holds no grudge against America and encourages interaction between the Japanese and Americans. She has devoted her life to peace, saying, “I want all the people around the world to be friends, and I want to make my country peaceful without fighting.” Today she makes colorful paper cranes and donates them to the Children’s Peace Monument at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park.

The Unclad Soul

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