Sunday, 28 November 2010

The Other Hand

The frost has been so incredibly beautiful the last couple of days. This morning it was so intense it spread not only across grass and fallen leaves, but up the bushes and hedgerows to the very tops of the trees.  All was white and crisp. When nature is so beautiful, so magical, does it not feel as if there is the hand of something else? It is superlative.  So breathtakingly glorious, that there is something other-worldly to it all, not explained by our functional, prosaic existence.

I don't think it matters what you call this Other Hand. To some it will be God or Allah, to some it will be Spirit or Light, to some it will be the comforting Mother Nature. I don't think it matters what you call it, or whether you call it anything at all. You don't need to label it. Things don't always need a label. Lack of labels doesn't diminish understanding...they just help the verbal communication from person to person, but woe betide you if you understand something different by the label. Then where has it got you? Further misunderstanding!

Why is there so much beauty in what we call the 'natural world'? But there is, have you noticed it? Just as my spirits may be lowering, or my mind is occupied with thoughts that absorb me, nature gives me a little jolt. Suddenly I spot something, or smell something, or hear something, and I am pulled out of my egotistical little world. This morning it was the sight of the heavy frost, the hard feel of the frozen earth beneath my boots, the smell of ice, wood and smoke and the sound of a still world bolstering itself for Winter. And I forgot myself. Which I think was what was intended.


  1. You write really well. Reading this, I felt like I was rummaging through your mind.

  2. Thank you, and what a wonderful image. I am so pleased this is what you felt.. The Mind is fascinating and I think at its most exciting when one does indeed rummage around... Thank you again, and please keep reading and commenting if you feel so inclined.