There are moments when I have wished for clarity and insight. In a kind of remarkable handbook for the lost, I have found exactly what I have needed. It seems that there is something about carrying a camera around that changes how I see the world and my role in it.
it started with a plain, yellow road sign that served as a marker for my state of mind. In a term our family coined years and years ago, I was confuzzled; it is a derivative of confused and puzzled. Trying to make sense of things and determine a meaningful direction has been my mission recently. At moments, I have felt lost without a North Star to guide me. The first guidepost appeared. Along came a sign.
Two weeks ago, I went to a function in the Tabernacle of the Methodist Campground Meeting Association. I was reflecting that I could certainly benefit from a spiritual advisor and there, like a flashing neon sign, was one word, printed in capital letters on a rolling cart. GUIDANCE.
Perhaps I was reading too much into things, but then, not three days later, I was stepping out of my car from the driver’s side. I noticed an emblem emblazoned on the sidewalk. I burst into a grin that stretched from ear to ear. It was a compass rose.
No risk that I would be lost.
My next epiphany came when I happened to pay attention to which way the wind was blowing. A very good practice to have regardless of any kind of spiritual morass. I was focused on the lines of the vessel, the Shenandoah, without giving any real thought to the kick-ass breeze that was blowing. When I finally noticed the banners flapping gaily aloft, I heard the sound of the waves gently breaking against the wharf beneath my feet.
Proving again that we will find what we give our focus to. Have questions? Find answers.
A couple of days ago, I was walking through the Manuel Correllus State Forest. The wind-battered scrub oaks were stunted and gnarled. Unexpectedly, the forest gave way to a neatly-ordered farm of towering pines. They showed the effects of competing for overhead light; most of the growth on these old trees was near the peaks. To take in the trees, I had to arch my neck backward, then literally, step back. Then, it struck me, sometimes, to really appreciate life, it is best to step back a pace or two, then look skyward. Light shines down, but there are times we have to look up to find it.