After Vigils, I walked up the hill across from the Abbey to where the statue of St. Francis stands. At least I think it’s St. Francis – I’ve not been up there during the day. I wanted time to think under the stars and a silence you don’t find at other times of the day. My favorite constellation, Orion, was climbing out of the eastern horizon, locked in his eternal battle with Taurus. And there were the Pleiades, riding the bulls back. I wonder if any society will ever again paint their stories on the stars. Has our knowledge of the stars robbed them of their wonder, their ability to help us tell our stories? As I look at the twinkling sky, I am reminded that the light I see is thousands of years old, tens of thousands. And somehow that ancient light has reached my eye, triggered my thoughts. Amazing.
This morning reminds me of the opening of Our Town, as the Stage Manager sets the scene. The stars still up, a mist covering the hills, the sounds of day beginning – the roosters crow, the lowing of the cows, the distant crashes in the barns. It’s a peacefulness I rarely let my self experience.
While I sat on a dew-soaked chair beneath St. Francis, a bird landed behind me, singing its morning song. And I wished I knew what he was singing, what wisdom to impart, what beauty to reveal. I felt him singing only to me, for my benefit. I know the world revolves not around me, and yet there are moments where the world stops as if making sure I’m paying attention. This morning was one of those moments.
My God, I pray better to you by breathing,
I pray better to you by waking than by talking.O God, my God, the night has values that day has never dreamed of.
T. M.
when i look up at the stars at night
what could i find beyond the light
a hundred million worlds that we ignore
who can restrain pleiades
or know the laws of heavenly's
how many times have we been wrong beforeKX
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