"Sunshine on my shoulders
makes me happy,
sunshine in my eyes
can make me cry,
Sunshine on the water
looks so lovely..."
Here in the high Rockies we've seen very little of the sun this spring. It's hard not to miss the feeling of "Sunshine on My Shoulders," that John Denver sings about in this lovely performance.
I actually love these cloudy, rainy, snow-spitting spring days in the mountains. But I also enjoy the bone-deep warmth of the sun on my shoulders. I know that whatever unfolds in this valley is going to be beautiful. Often I will ask nature, "what do you have to teach me today?" And then I wait. This morning was no different.
Lowering clouds of blue-black slate, the weight of moisture in the air, the soft filtered light of an impending storm -- what was it's message. I stood silently at the reed-lined edge of our lake, and saw the play of almost-light upon the water. Then the question came, "why don't you doubt the sun?"
Hmmm, I thought. I haven't actually seen the sun for days. All sensible evidence would point to a fading, a dissolution, a failing. But I had never even considered the possibility that the sun was in decline.
Every glimmer of light, every sprouting seed, each flower reaching towards the southwest reminded me that the sun is where it has always been. Diffused light, soft shadows, the barest warmth -- it is enough.
I have been thinking about this today in light of Mary Baker Eddy's statement on the first page of her "Preface" to Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures:
"The wakeful shepherd
beholds the first faint morning beams,
ere cometh the full radiance
of a risen day."
This is my purpose. To stay focused on the presence of light. To know -- with all my being -- that it portends the full radiant presence of the Sun. Or, as Eddy elsewhere encourages, to:
"wait, never doubting"
Why? Why, if the light seems to be fading, the warmth to be retreating, the clouds overpowering, do we not doubt? Well, I think it's because we know that you can't just get a little piece of the Sun. If the light is at all present, it is all present.
So it is with God's presence. If we are at all aware of the presence of good, it portends the full and undiminished presence of all good, of complete health, of undiminished joy and peace.
You can't get a little bit of God. You just can't. The only measure of the Infinite -- is infinite. The only portion of All-in-all -- is all.
So, whatever tries to convince you that God's goodness is absent in your life: illness - parading itself as the absence of health, pain - marketing itself as the absence of peace, hatred, anger, fear - suggesting themselves as the absence of Love -- don't buy it. Keep you heart transfixed on whatever glimmer of God's goodness you can see, feel, hear. And never forget what it portends.
Just as the darkest shadow is really only an indication of the brightest light -- the darkest storm is only the opportunity to feel the central calm within.
And if you wait -- wait upon (serve), not wait for -- never doubting, you will discover a light that never fades, a warmth that never cools, and an unwavering peace that comes from a deeply radiant kingdom -- the consciousness of Love's ever-active presence -- within.
with all my love -- and with Love,