The sun rises every morning. I do not rise every morning, but the variation is due not to my activity, but to my inaction. Now, to put the matter in a popular phrase, it might be true that the sun rises regularly because he never gets tired of rising. His routine might be due, not to a lifelessness, but to a rush of life.
The thing I mean can be seen, for instance, in children, when they find some game or joke that they specially enjoy. A child kicks his legs rhythmically through excess, not absence, of life. Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, “Do it again”; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, “Do it again” to the sun, and every evening, “Do it again” to the moon.
It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we. (paragraph breaks added)
Source: Orthodoxy, GK Chesterton
Isabel
That’s really neat.
You sure you weren’t into the wine here too?
Reminds me of Wilson Bryan Key’s book “Subliminal Seduction.”
And it reminds me of the farmer who went to a church committee to say that he felt called to be a Minister. They asked why. “Because God sent me a sign,” he replied.
“What sign?”
“Well, I was out there in the field plowing and there appeared three letters in the sky: GPC.”
“Yes, and…?”
“It’s very clear,” said the farmer. “Go Preach Christ.”
One person on the committee asked, “You sure it didn’t mean Go Plant Corn?”
Tom
Tom – No wine in this mix, I swear! As for interpreting signs – not so obvious.
Yep. And palm tress can be more than one thing — tall and silly.
I grew up with them so I can say that.
Did you know that those top leaves have to be individually trimmed in cities — they are rat nests otherwise.
Barbara – I had heard that, and untrimmed palm trees now make me very nervous.
Sorry, now I see it’s a lamp post. Oh well.
So often the camera sees things you don’t. Usually clutter etc, in this case a neat happenstance (if that is the right word)
Jim R – Yes, I am often Not Impressed with how well my eye screens out clutter but my camera puts it back in . . .
Since you partially explain what we are seeing, you have removed part of the puzzle of point-of-view. At first, I thought of intrepid Isabel walking along the street until she spotted this entrancing image. Then, I thought, Isabel would have to be as tall as a professional basketball player with arms like Mr. Gadget to capture the shot. But, no; on closer study I see the view is claustrophobic, taken from inside the vehicle looking skyward. The inversion of the lamppost is like the inversion of all images on the retina, which are reversed by the brain — an explanation that leaves me wondering perpetually what is meant by “up” and “down” visually, if not gravitationally. Or, perhaps gyroscopically, too. Another captivating image, Isabel!
Laurna – Many thanks! Optics (the little I studied) baffled me totally, so I am content to see what happens without truly understanding it.
I took one like that through a window in Prince Rupert, years ago. Yours is better. I didn’t manage to get any inverted images.
Jim T
Jim – Not yet, eh?