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Early Light Late

October 17, 2020

I drive this morning to see a client in the early bright light of late year.

The startling beauty of early light at 65 driving 65 miles per hour is made explosive by the trees that have all their leaves, but undeniably in mid-change.

I am old but seeing the beauty made by what has happened in the leaves, bright now brightly lit in time. We are given the beauty of age, to see the beauty of what is before us.

Like Faith, or children, or life itself, we can’t see as much early as we cannot avoid in time. Driving hard, on a road made 90 years ago through fallow open farmland, the travel may be through the fully treed landscape, from and towards, is inevitably about time.

The moment, becoming day. The year, becoming winter. The time – I am 65.

The joy of beginning is perhaps best known with a perceived end. The going is immediate, the start, is forgotten, but the end is undeniable.

Humanity is at the end of a year, in fear of the end of us – in America on cultural levels alongside a season of plague. Humanity is also at the ending of an epoch of religion, perhaps realizing the inevitability of faith.

Not much is known but the going.

An end is known, but what the end is is unknowable. It is hard to feel good about the unknowable, but we have no choice.

We have no choice but to feel the awe of low light, of the season changing, of the exquisite desperation of beauty. We have no choice other than faith. 

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