me, myself i've got nothing to prove.

"Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: 

Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; 

Selves--goes itself; myself it speaks and spells, 

Crying What I do is me: for that I came." 

--"As Kingfishers Catch Fire," Gerard Manley Hopkins

The last couple weeks I have been gently reminded of the quiet beauties of life. 

That there lives, as Gerard Manly Hopkins says, "the dearest freshness deep down things." 

And that life manifests itself in many forms. 

Not always loud. 

In fact, usually not loud. 

The stillness of a bending river 

or the gentle formation of roots 

carves life 

and creates changes 

in ways that a supernova could not fathom. 

There is power in moving forward. 

A release of tension and heavy clouds

to trust in yourself enough--

and trust in God more--

to allow yourself to be unsure. 

I might not know what tomorrow will bring

or the next six months. 

But I can trust enough--

hope enough--

that there will be forward progression. 

And although we never know--

we can never know--

exactly what the future will hold, 

there's no need to be stuck in the past 

or in pretension. 

Mistakes don't have to define you. 

They shouldn't define you. 

If I were to describe the way I feel right now, 

I'm not really sure what I would say. 

Sometimes there really are no words to describe life. 

Perhaps it would be that I am starting to feel unburdened. 

Some of this is because it's the end of a week 

and almost the end of a term 

(which has been incredibly, incredibly busy--I'm still not entirely 

sure if I will make it to next Monday). 

But some of it is because I'm relearning 

that I don't have to do it alone. 

(I seem to have to relearn this lesson at least once--if not twice--every month.) 

But that there is a beauty--

one of those quiet beauties

that you never see

like roots spreading their tendrils 

through thawing soil 

or the slight change in pitch 

as the melody changes keys--

but a beauty 

in spending time with others. 

Letting them see into your soul, 

even for a little bit, 

and allowing them 

to unpack their heart as well. 

A window to a soul 

like driving past a house at twilight

with their blinds open and lights on 

and you see a man

a woman 

a child

chopping tomatoes by their kitchen sink

or sitting at a piano

or laughing at some joke you will never know. 

Those windows into lives that you cannot fully understand. 

Distanced from you, 

yet sharing a connection

a connection we all share 

by simply being human. 

By simply living. 

No one is alone. 

No one needs to be alone.

I cannot have myself without yourself. 

And in those others' faces, 

we see ourselves. 

"For Christ plays in ten thousand places, 

Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his

To the Father through the features of men's faces." (Hopkins, "As Kingfishers Catch Fire") 

"lovely in eyes not his." 

and we are. 

made lovely in eyes 

that are not our own. 

and--hopefully--others 

made lovely 

in mine.