The Contemplative Photographer

How wholly infused with God
is this one big word
we call the world.
John Muir

It is easy for me
  to tire of the words of theologians.
I embarrass myself to put that in writing.
Sometimes I even tire of words from scripture.
That embarrasses me even more.
Then, every now and again,
  a man like John Muir comes along.
Born in 1838, and never graduating from college,
  he was a ferry operator, sheepherder,
   bronco buster, and industrial engineer
    before becoming one of the greatest naturalists
       in U.S. history.
Using mostly one-syllable words,
  John Muir says simply and freshly
   what is, for me, divine truth.

I discover everywhere in the smallest things
that omnipotent hand which supports
the heavens and the earth,
and which seems as it were in sport
while it conducts the universe.
Francois Fenelon

Fenelon’s perfectly stated truth
 forces me to drop my pen
   in homage.

I hung out at the Chicago Botanic Garden
  yesterday and today.
The floral variety there is overwhelming—
  all the colors, shapes, sizes, complexities.
How could there be so many?
Why are we on earth showered
  with such extravagant, unnecessary beauty?
During my visit today
  something additional caught my eye
   and made its way into my soul:
  the Garden is prepared with such artistry, such sensitivity.
Each tulip bed is arranged in strikingly complementary colors—
  a vividly bright bed here,
   a study is subtle pastels there.
In one bed half of the flowers are deep purple in color
  and the others are a rich burgundy,
   one strong color playing off the other.
Only after sitting there awhile
  did I see that quiet detail
   some thoughtful spirit had carefully planned:
At the base of these foot-tall plants
  was a blanket of cheerful pansies,
   each of which had three petals of the same purple color
    and two of the same burgundy hue.
Why do I write of this?
Because I believe we are at our best
  when we take that which is God-given
   and combine it lovingly and joyfully
    with that which is humanly inspired,
     our humanly inspired.
I believe that may be when
  God is at God’s best too.