{Ruminature} The Brilliance of the World

A magical day. Today was a magical day. I took my hearty cough and cold out for a walk with the dog. Plans made for a shortish long walk, then bumped into a neighbor I haven’t yet met, talked about dogs and Buddhism and agreed we’d get together soon when Jake whined with boredom and insisted we continue on.

Then we walked and walked and walked some more, and walked further along the creek than we ever have, down under the main road, discovering that that bridge is painted an improbable, cheery/cherry red, and then stumbled across a pathway that leads down to the water… and which, it turns out, is actually a park, The Hudson Highlands State Park. (I live in the Hudson Highlands, just south of the Hudson Valley, though most refer to this area as the Hudson Valley, too.)

And we found sheer, gorgeous, sparkling majesty. It was like standing in a cathedral. I bowed my head. I prayed. I thanked the guiding hand who made this world. And I wept a tear or three for the wondrous joy of glory. And the gift of living to experience it.

This being 2014, I also posted quite a few photos on Instagram, and this video.

Which prompted a beautiful Tweet from Lindsey: ” ‘The world is charged with the grandeur of God.’ Hopkins is always in my head at times like that.’ ”

And so, now, forever, will that be true for me, too. And now maybe you, too, as well, dear reader.

The Grandeur of God, Gerard Manley Hopkins, 1844-1889

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
   It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
   It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
   And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
   And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
   There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
   Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs–
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
   World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

Perfect.

I have loved being here the past three days. This really is a wonderful place to be, to meet you all, and to share together wonder and more. I start back to work tomorrow, but I am going to try to create an at-least-weekly habit of spending a few minutes here each morning, even if just to share someone else’s words, as I did today.

Peace!

About stacy

I am a writer, author, mother, longtime magazine editor (20 years in the business, 6 as editor in chief of Redbook), optimist, and, above all, a searcher. Right now, I'm searching for whom I'm really meant to be, after living through a series of very jarring changes that bumped me out of the life I was living: a son, then a divorce, a cataclysimcally messed-up house, which led to a book (Falling Apart In One Piece), and then, one week after that book came out, my parents both fell gravely ill, I resigned from my job (and maybe my career), my son got very scared and then, later, was diagnosed with an anxiety/ADHD disorder, my parents died, and at the same time, my boyfriend moved in with my son and me and we started the long and very painful journey of realizing we couldn't make our relationship work (that story unfolds on this blog). Since then I've been trying to figure out what's next. Or, in other words, how to fill in the blanks.
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4 Responses to {Ruminature} The Brilliance of the World

  1. Lindsey says:

    Oh, I love this.
    For some reason Hopkins is the poet of fall and winter for me. This one and Pied Beauty, with the seminal line, “glory be to God for dappled things” – this one I think of mostly in the fall with sunlight through leaves. But the shining like shook foil – oh, yes. Years ago that was a recurring trope in my blog. The world startling me like foil shaking in my face. Yes. Beautiful, your pictures, your words. xoxox

  2. Rita says:

    Peace to you, Stacy. This post reminds me of why I love winter. There’s such an easy beauty to summer, with its lush riots of color and bloom. But winter: The beauty is in the empty space. I always feel winter gives me room to see, to breathe.

    Wishing you an easy transition back to work. I go back today, too, after two weeks away. Feeling reluctant to let go this morning.

  3. alexandra says:

    Winter is necessary to me. It reminds me we need seasons. The recharging and assessment and rest we need to give to our souls. We can’t be always moving and doing, we need to spread a blanket down and be still…. the beauty comes out then. I love the place you’re in, Stacy. It spreads its healing to us. xo

  4. wow, beautiful! did you see Niagra Falls was frozen? Winter is sure glorious, although freaking cold :)

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