I've noticed that the pictures of my kids have gotten phenomenally better since our son was a baby. Was it the result of improved skill? Not really, I've been taking pictures for over 20 years, four years isn't going to make that much of an improvement, me thinks. Was it better equipment? I did recently upgrade cameras, but I'm not sure it added all that much to the equation. So what was the magic bullet then? It all comes down to better light. We used to live in a tiny apartment with windows that solely faced west overlooking a busy street and an industrial building, combine that with either extreme heat or super short days and we almost never had the blinds open or natural light invading our troglodyte's haven, thus my picture's from that ere are all dependent on artificial light of one form or another: yellowish tint, grainy or blurry, red eye...ugh! We currently live in a house with lots of windows, meaning there is almost always a room with decent natural light anytime the sun is up, which makes this photographer very happy indeed.
I was sitting on the bed in our room the other day staring at one of those hook thingies that holds the curtains back, a rather innocuous item certainly, but as I sat there looking at it, I thought that it was particularly lovely at that moment, only because the early morning light had made it a most intriguing picture, usually it was a most unremarkable feature of the room. And it is that particular type of light that makes landscape photographers most happy, those golden slanting rays just after dawn or before dusk that paint the whole world in wonder and loveliness, even the most mundane of items or scenes.
I wonder if there's a different sort of light, that's not really light at all, light is only the metaphor for this thing, this sense of wonder or awe or beauty or joy or peace, this inexplicable feeling, like a wind from Heaven carrying some delicious but unfathomable scent into this everyday, mundane world we call real life. That sense of something greater, brighter, better just beyond the curtain of this world. A star in a dark and hopeless night, a faint and far off song of hope in the midst of despair, a breath within the tomb, life amid the ashes of death. It is like that golden, slanting light of evening, making everything beautiful and taking your breath away for a few glorious minutes. It is the whisper of Eternity among the din of mortality; a very glimpse of the real amid a world of lies.
It makes our souls alive, it reminds us that we are more than intelligent apes or carnally driven beasts, more than flesh and blood and bone, a complex chemical entity, far more than the sum of our parts. It's the rush of true love, the humbling awe of mountain or sea, the far off beauty of the stars, the wonderment of a new parent, the exhilaration of some long sought triumph, the warmth of old friends...and a million other fleeting but inexplicable sensations we spend our whole lives chasing, wishing the moment could last for eons, but it soon passes or grows cold and we are left with an even deeper sense of loneliness and emptiness than before. For a fleeting moment we felt alive and the world suddenly seemed right and all was well. For just a moment we had a glimpse of home but the train kept moving and left it quickly behind while our hearts yearned to gaze upon it indefinitely.
That's because it is Home we seek, feel, know, a true Home where our hearts will at last be whole, content, and full to bursting with every good thing. But it is still a long way off, our journey will be long and often tedious, happily we can find little hints and reminders along the way, but still there will be many long and difficult nights, storms to be weathered, and interminable, dull stretches where the landscape never seems to change. But we can be citizens of that strange country even now, very children of the King, bearers of that peculiar light into the darkest reaches of our world, but 'narrow is the gate and difficult is the way,' but it is the only way Home.
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