Two weeks ago, I walked in Hayward, Wisconsin and photographed the change of seasons. I spied an interesting stump and snapped away. It wasn’t until I looked at the photo that I saw the horse. My brain had only registered “twisted dead tree trunk.” It was the camera that “saw” and revealed the gift in the woods. Now I wonder how many other wonderful, magical, whimsical surprises surround us each day, except we only ever see what we expect to see. My wish is that we all start “seeing” hidden horses. Maybe dragons won't be far behind. Or angels.
Perhaps, Rumi said it best:
God's joy moves from unmarked box to unmarked box,
from cell to cell. As rainwater, down into flowerbed.
As roses, up from the ground.
Now it looks like a plate of rice and fish,
now a cliff covered with vines,
now a horse being saddled.
It hides within these,
till one day it cracks them open.
Perhaps, Rumi said it best:
God's joy moves from unmarked box to unmarked box,
from cell to cell. As rainwater, down into flowerbed.
As roses, up from the ground.
Now it looks like a plate of rice and fish,
now a cliff covered with vines,
now a horse being saddled.
It hides within these,
till one day it cracks them open.
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