It’s not just another day

In an earlier post, on a Suffolk walk, I mentioned my ingratitude for not fully appreciating the gift of a beautiful morning. In many ways we find ourselves in a time where the certainties of established religions have less of a hold on us, and yet so many of us still perceive (almost like a fragrance that we can’t name) a call to the spiritual. That call provides us with a moral compass of sorts, but also has a bias towards beauty and truth.

Love all that has been created

The great Russian writer Fyodor Dostoyevsky exhorted us to:

Love all that has been created by God, both the whole and every grain of sand. Love every leaf and every ray of light. Love the beasts and the birds, love the plants, love every separate fragment. If you love each fragment, you will understand the mystery of the whole resting in God.

I believe completely in this, and find the fundamental truth it contains echoed in many different places (for example poetry), and in other religious traditions as well as Christianity. It is of course, like all truth, easier to say and admire than to live by, but something of its essence is, at least in my perception, present in the greatest art, including photographs.