In my life-long impatience, how much I have missed. Last night, washing the dishes, I really looked at my iron frying pan in the dishwater. The light made visible for a moment a tiny rainbow—a light through water revealing all the colors of life. It is so easy to miss the tiny symbols. Finding them is quite different from the business of trying to hatch up big symbolic experiences. It is RECOGNITION, not PURSUIT, of meaning—recognition of the sacramental, of the intersection of the two worlds, breaking through unsought because one is ATTENDING.
Beauty itself bears witness to God.
Only in space are events and objects and people unique and significant -- and therefore beautiful. A tree has significance if one sees it against the empty face of the sky. A note in music gains significance from silence on either side. A candle flowers in the space of night.