An Invitation

In these cold days of deep winter, on days when the news brings only more tales of misbehavior and disrespect, I find myself more grateful than ever for the small comforts available to me.  Give me a cup of warm tea, a bag of bird seed with which to fill my feeders, a moment of sitting in a patch of sun on my sofa.

Slowing down has its merits.  I notice the board games too long untouched.  The letter that has lain unanswered for too long.  The footprints in the snow that tell infinite stories of the creatures who populate my world.

So much more satisfying than what jumps up on my screens.

Last weekend I spent an afternoon viewing small Rembrandt etchings at a local museum.  How could I have forgotten his brilliant compassion for the human face?  Peering at the small prints, I could feel the subjects’ glancing out at me, the viewer, with an immediacy that took my breath away.   They exuded a light that I still can’t find words for, but that was embodied, I think, in the artist’s technique suffused with vision.  Each image held something deep and true of reverence, quiet homage, of care.

It did my soul good to be in the presence of such a vision at this time in my own, and the world’s, life. It gave me hope that human beings are still capable of becoming their best selves, and of moving others to, simply by striving for the highest expression of  their callings.

Epiphany is the season of light, the season of new journeys and greater consciousness.  If you have a minute, search for a few of Rembrandt’s etchings online — or in an art book, if you have one close at hand.  Genius has a way of wiping clean our smudgy, distracted and distorted views.  And this may be the greatest gift we can give one another.

Blessings!

Kathleen

(image: Girl at a Window, by Rembrandt van Rijn)