Awe
Evening Snowflakes
Click for meditationRegarding "Evening Snowflakes"
At the most unexpected
Times, Creation speaks to us,
And usually this occurs in
Simple ways, so simple and
Routine that these
Communications can
Be overlooked. These gifts
Are meant to be a form
Of sustenance to us, to
Rejuvenate us, to be an
Ameliorating antidote to
The human condition.
And so, whether in the
Form of a flower’s face
Such as the snapdragon, a
Seagull’s call, the sound of a
Rising tide, the dance
Of a monarch butterfly,
The chirp of a late
Summer’s cricket, the
Warmth of the sun on
A south-facing, Maine
Wooded slope, the slow
Pace of a ladybug’s crawl, the
Glint of September’s
Fading light, the rush of
Winter’s wind through the
Tops of trees, a raven croaking
And circling far above, a
Flock of Canadian geese
Beating their wings into a
Stormy night, an autumn maple
Leaf floating on Walden
Pond, and, yes, even
The imperceptible weight
Of dainty snowflakes
On the jacket of a coat like
Mine, as I shut my car
Door and pull up my collar,
Reminding me I was absolutely
Not alone along a
Darkened path leading
Somewhere under no moon.
Leo Carroll
March 11, 2019
Down they come,
Big, soft, silent ones, as if their
Whole life they had
Been slowly falling, and
Finally up’n my shoulders
Land as lightly as if
They had no weight —
Except, that is, for their
Yoke of grace…
The sky against
Which they float has a hint
Of grey, black, and
Some blue, and the sheer
Quiet of their descent
Is staggering, as if they
Were at the end of
Silk puppet strings, and
Made of the curliest,
Winter wool.
Near the Quicksand Swamp
Click for meditationRegarding "Near the Quicksand Swamp"
One afternoon,
On a surprisingly balmy
Autumn day in the
Woods of Maine,
I laid onto my back,
And on a large, flat stone
Just dreamily gazed
Up at the tops of
Pine trees which were
Lightly swaying and
Letting loose
Their needles in
A wondrous display.
It was incredibly
Peaceful. A shower
Of pine needles was landing
Atop and all around
Me, and it was
As if I was receiving a
Genuine blessing
From the hand
Of Mother Nature,
Freely given and
In its gentleness
Amazing…and then
It passed…left…as if a
Wand had mysteriously
Crossed over me,
And my understanding
Of what the woods
Was speaking faded —
Behind a veil to
Someday be parted,
When I rest again
So easily…
Leo Carroll
June 21, 2018
For one brief moment, I
Felt I understood the woods. It came when a
Little breeze blew, and I saw pine
Trees their shoulders shrug
And their needles let loose…and then it
Was gone, my understanding
Fleeting like the precious breeze…
And I was left staring up at
Floating pine needles – but their descent
Again a forest mystery.
Primeval
Click for meditationRegarding "Primeval"
In the great 1969 movie,
“Paint Your Wagon,”
Which is about the wild and
Crazy California gold rush
Of 1849, there is the
Fabulous song, “They Call
The Wind Mariah.” The
Lyrics are powerful, but yet
Hauntingly lonely, and they set
The framework and tempo
For the screenplay starring
Lee Marvin, Clint Eastwood,
And Jean Seberg. It was
A rough, tumultuous
Crossing in 1849 to reach
California, and once there
It was equally rough
And tumultuous to survive.
In the movie, the wind and the
Music were always in the
Background as if they were
Part of the cast. It struck
Me how primeval the wind
Was portrayed, and ever
Since, in any storm, I always
Will look up at the tops
Of trees and “call the
Wind Mariah,” as if
Addressing a supernatural
Force, one that comes
From and simultaneously
Represents Creation,
And wields the contradictory
Attributes of incredible
Power, terror, and the
Magnificent fist of Yahweh
Spreading love and hope and
Beauty upon the land …
Leo Carroll
January 15, 2019
Up my eyes strain to the tops of
Their spires, feeling from out of my primal past
What I cannot begin to plumb nor
Describe. Bend and moan they
Do, to the roar of wind howling
From out of the womb of the universe,
Right here, right now, this place,
This hope, this cave mouth, this new
Millennium, this old ice age, with the same
Shudder, the same words, the
Same stab of terror, and then
Tomorrow, the same sunrise chorus.
Gospel of John 1: 1-3
Click for meditationRegarding "Gospel of John 1: 1-3"
The concept of
Creation still lies beyond the grasp
Of all human understanding.
All scientific efforts to
Satisfactorily explain how
Creation happened still languish
Behind the door of a
Limited ability to peer
Into the moments before the
Roar of the “Big Bang.”
Every time something is
Discovered, or an inroad is
Made peeking through
The keyhole of what appears a
Physics mystery, something
Further then looms as needing to be
Explained or understood …
Mankind’s brain falters before
The throne of incomplete
Knowledge. All cultures, past
And present, have tried
To make sense of
Creation as seen by an
Examination of old oral traditions
And ancient texts, and
Modern efforts are now
Seen taking form in the
Starship of the world’s largest
Particle collider, the Hadron
Collider, on the Swiss/French border.
Yet, we still don’t truly
Know, on a cosmic scale,
Much of anything … That is
Why faith still perseveres
As a salve upon the
Overwhelmed neurons
Of our brains.
Leo Carroll
January 19, 2019
The spoken Word which
Created the universe, the Word
We bow in wonder before
But cannot spell, the
Word whose feet we washed
In perfume, the Word
Who with us in the Upper
Room dwelt, the Word we can
Neither say nor hear, the
Word in Gethsemane
Who while we slept knelt,
That Word I don’t understand,
But that Word reached down
And became my brother,
Through an uncommonly
Blessed woman in the straw of
The stable of Man.