Moments of Illumination

Afternoon sunlight on a distant hill.

Most of life is, more or less, drudgery.  Work is, well, work -- or worse.  You get tired.  Or sick.  The people around you get tired, or sick -- or worse. 

I do not live my life in quiet desperation.  I live in quiet expectation. 

Because there are moments of beauty, truth, goodness. 

I might be out for a run, thinking more about calories and body weight and everything that is wrong with me.  Tired, out of breath, feeling all the accumulation of old aches and injuries. 

Then:  boom.

Around a bend and there is a peek at heaven on earth.  Framed, lighted, in living color.  Photography doesn't do it justice.  Not even close. 

There are these tiny moments of inspiration, illumination.  Something kindles in the mind and spirit. 

The cause can be a fleeting expression in the eyes of your beloved.  The aroma of a favorite food.  The face of that baby being pushed in a stroller.  A few bars of music. 

It doesn't last, and it's a tiny nearly zero fraction of our time.  But for those moments I wait in quiet expectation.  I pluck them and collect them and gather them in memory and try to chisel them into the stone of my heart for use during those dark times that will also come. 

More than anything this year, I am thankful for those moments of illumination. 

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