By Cathy Hird
On many winter days, sky crowds the earth with a covering of heavy grey cloud. On a cold day, when the cloud clears the sky is further out, a dome of brilliant blue. We know that the sun sits far beyond our atmosphere, but it seems to trace an arc across that dome. In daytime, we do not see past the edge of earth's atmosphere.
It is at night that we see beyond. Only when it is dark do we see the bright planets of our solar system, stars that are many light-years away, a hint of distant galaxies. Night opens our world to the rest of the universe.
Daily life closes us in with the routines of living. School starts at the same time each day. Offices and stores have a time they are supposed to open. Our specific hours may vary from day to day, but there is a pattern to the shifts we work and the routine is the same. Even if we are retired or are off work, there is a pattern to our days: meals come up at regular times, volunteer jobs have their own structure, and we keep to a schedule.
Children love snow days because they break routine. When the roads get clogged and white-outs make driving hazardous, we stay home and find a different kind of space in our lives. A day off lets us catch up with a book or a task or each other.
Holidays also open us to things we don't see when we are following routine. Visiting a different place, seeing different sights, changing location lets us see, feel and hear what is beyond the ordinary.
There are people we spend time with regularly, family and friends we are comfortable with. We relax together, laugh together, and share stories we know well. Like a warm quilt or a cup of tea, there is something comforting about familiar people.
Gathering with a group we don't know can be intimidating. Going to a new place with new people can make us nervous. But when we do, we hear new stories; we are pushed by new ideas; we see a different perspective on the world.
Some of us read a lot, and some of us watch TV, but all of us have favorites we pick up. We turn to the same show or pick up an author we know we will enjoy. When we shift to a new channel or pick up an author we don't know, new ideas and new perspectives are presented to us.
The radio that wakes us up or the one on the car plays the same songs over and over. The same announcers greet us with a voice we know and jokes we are accustomed to.
Getting put on hold is not fun, but it may be a different radio station that we get to listen to. And on a road trip, the settings on the car radio no longer work. We have to scan for something different, and we will hear new voices and new music.
Celtic spirituality talks about "thin places," spots where the transcendent comes near to the ordinary world. The island of Iona is such a place. The rocks and shoreline of that island touched people long ago making it a place sought out for solitude and connection to what is beyond. The history of pilgrimage to the island has added layers and markers so that it is a place where it is easy to sense the story of humanity and the presence of the divine.
Each of us has visited places that we describe as breath-taking, uplifting, inspiring. In our area, the top of the escarpment or a spot on the shore of the bay may be the place where we stop and see the world. For me, a mossy nook in the forest, or a still pool of water can speak of time and beauty and life.
Routine is good. The ordinary grounds us. The familiar comforts us. But like the star-filled night sky, there are moments and people and places that let us see beyond.
Cathy Hird is a farmer, minister and writer living near Walters Falls.
