So I got on the bike and road home and through the midst of the fall colours and all that is fall I saw... colours and fall.
In my family I saw people. In the food I ate I saw food.
Then I came back to school the next day.
I road again through the fall colours and I saw... fall colours.
I felt the cool morning air on my skin and the tingle in my arms as they got too cold.
I pulled up to the seminary and looked around.
Bikes, Rocks, Trees, Water, Birds, Air, People, Cold, Sun Sets, Sun Rises, all of these things.
And perhaps this is the problem... God isn't a thing (or perhaps more accurately, God is all things and then some). So the problem looks as if it is me. I'm looking at things and expecting to see the whole.
And perhaps a new set of eyes is what is required to see.
And perhaps a new set of ears is needed to hear.
And perhaps a new tongue, nose, sensory system is what is needed to realize what is so far away (or perhaps more accurately, what is so close and and all around.)
So if the assignment was to see "God" then I have not yet done that.
Except perhaps a little.
And not in all the places outside, but inside. Not inside me, but inside the interaction of two creatures - Me and the Janitor.
He talked of oiling the Organ and I talked of enjoying my bike ride. And in a way that is beyond a concrete way of saying, there was a sense of something bigger than both of us in the mundane conversation we had.
And perhaps this is the lesson,
just keep looking and don't be surprised when the thing you are looking for is found in the morning conversation with janitor.
