The Quiet, Dim Light of Being

It’s not even 6:30 yet. I’m sitting in the dark of my bedroom, quietly listening to the sounds within and without my own apartment. I awoke to the halting brakes of the trains in the yard here at Enola, and the quiet, persistent tapping of rain on the window, beckoning for my attention.

It tells me, “Notice me. Notice the yard. Realize your very being.”

Right now I can hear cars on 11/15. People are awake, driving to work, starting another day in their lives that seems very much like yesterday, but existence without such repetition can hardly be sustained. In a few minutes, I will publish this post, shower, eat breakfast, and drive to work myself.

These sounds I hear are sensations God clearly wanted me to notice. This isn’t the first time I’ve listened to the rain on my window; this is our fourth day in a row with rain. The yard is nothing new; my parent’s house is right next to the train tracks in Newport. The sounds of traffic sometimes feel like a grind on my ears, a reminder of the daily grind I wake up to every day.

Today, all of these are the poetry of existence, of being itself. The rain beckons my attention to the earth, to its own works of revitalization and sustenance. A gloomy, rainy morning means an all the more enjoyable sunny day later on, for the rain brings forth growth and color in the grass, in the trees, and the rest of this earth God has given us. Rain brings forth change in the seasons, every one, from bringing forth new greens in the spring and summer, to the vibrant spectrum in the fall, to the quiet grays of the winter. Rain (water) is the very lifeblood of this planet, and it is beautiful.

The traffic and the yard are reminders, evidence of a race that struggled its way out of the primordial soup and created a civilization advanced beyond all known species of existence. Debate may exist about many of the statements in that sentence, but one cannot deny the progression and accomplishment of the human race. We, above all others, came forth and did what no other species could; we created, we established, and we persevered. We must be careful not to become arrogant, to become the foolish rulers of old who wasted their kingdoms to nothing.

Some of you might look at these everyday things and think nothing of them. Most of the time I am the same way, but on mornings like these, where the light of being shines on my darkened mind, I realize that the mundane, the routine, the process; all of it is wonderful and magnificent. Yes, I do largely the same thing every day, but in doing so I am a part of something bigger than myself: I am a human being.

I exist.

I am.

It is not much of an existence; I did not discover the poles. I didn’t surmount a great peak, or explore the depths of the ocean, but I did discover my own worth. I surmounted the great peak of my shortcomings. I explore the depths of my soul.

I am, and that is the great wild into which I am walking.


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