…or on the pavements grey…

Here in Halifax, and elsewhere, it has been a grey stretch of time, these last months. Grey and rain; grey and fog; grey and something between rain and fog; Grey.

Yet still the Public Gardens green and bloom in technicolor because that is what trees, flowers, and plants are called to do. And in fact, the grey watery light helps those colours stand out in greater relief. I believe that an awareness of that, the salvation of that, has been important these weeks, locally and more widely afield.  In this world that is such a mess globally…a little grey-light dampness helps highlight even the smallest shoot or bud or action or person that holds the startling promise of contrast, beauty, life, Spirit. Trees, bulbs, seeds, acting out of their fullness of purpose, make that manifest. Humans too…

The difference being that we need to choose it: choose to act out of that fullness of purpose. And it seems to me, as a person of faith, that purpose is Love. Which looks like decency; justice; compassion; solidarity; honesty; respect; openness; and more… toward God, toward Earth, toward one another.

I was thinking about that this morning as I left the house in the droplet thick half-light to walk through the Public Gardens. I thanked the trees for my breath; I thanked them for the shelter they provide; and for their steadfast solidity. I admired the rose vine’s gentle embrace of the light pole and the way that the begonias held onto fine mist, leaving each petal laden with prismatic jewels. 

And as I walked I gave thanks for the people I know and those I haven’t yet met who wake up in this world and decide that even a few slogging steps forward toward something other than the current miasma is, in fact, forward, and that making a positive difference is possible…and can look like a world-wide movement or a smile to a stranger…can be radical protest or scratching the ears of a dog who decided to sit on your feet.

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