Tag Archives: Poetry

The Butterfly Effect: Praise God!

There’s something about butterflies.
malachite butterfly
Malachite butterfly MILENIUSZ SPANOWICZ/WCS

Madidi National Park, located in northern Bolivia, holds at least 1,500 species of butterfly.  That’s more butterfly diversity in a SINGLE PARK the size of New Jersey than in the entire United States and Canada, as Discovery News wrote on March 18th.

One thousand, five hundred “sky-flakes…flowers that fly and all but sing,” according to Robert Frost’s poem, Blue-Butterfly Day. Continue reading

Renewal – A Lesson From Nature

When winter turns to spring,
IMG_0211When the colors start to reappear,spring When the snow has melted and the ground can once again see the sun,IMG_0217When the world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful,
IMG_0275And sunshine pours in a little earlier each day,
IMG_0222
I find joy in the process of renewal.
forsythia & oakThe fattening buds on the eager branches,
Finally waking from their winter nap,
Silently preparing,
To spring.

Spring is a time of restoration,
A time to renew and refresh.
And so it is in our lives,
We are called to be made new,
And we thrive through this renewal,
Shaking off the deadened pieces of our past,
And walking forward as new beings in Christ.

You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be renewed in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.  Ephesians 4:22-24

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.
2 Corinthians 5:17

And just for fun, one of my favorite springtime poems, and an inspiration for this post: “in Just-” by E.E, Cummings.

Sun Worship in Rocky Mountain National Park

Rocky Mountain National Park, courtesy of Lowell Bliss
Rocky Mountain National Park, courtesy of Lowell Bliss

Lowell Bliss’ monthly post.

For seven of the years my family and I lived in Varanasi, India, we resided in a house right on the western banks of the Ganges River.  From our rooftop first thing in the morning, we could look down on the riverfront and witness hundreds, sometimes thousands, of Hindu worshippers bathing in the Ganges.  At some point, they would cup their hands, draw up some water and then pour it in libation to the east from where the sun was rising.  They were in fact worshipping the sun.  I was a good enough cultural anthropologist to know why: the sun is a powerful luminary; it governs so much of life and health.  Studying Hinduism was not my first exposure to sun worship, neither was studying Continue reading

Reviving a Sense of Wonder

The first of Andrea Ebley’s monthly posts on the blog.  

IMG_3877wonder n : rapt attention or astonishment at something awesomely mysterious or new to one’s experience

Children embody the definition of wonder, a sense that inspires curiosity and investigation, and fosters delight. How often do you see a child running to catch falling leaves or jumping from curb to puddle, completely absorbed in his actions and oblivious to all else? How often do you see a full-grown adult doing those same things? Continue reading

Old Literature – but surprisingly relevant

Our environmental problems aren’t quite as new as we sometimes think they are.  Here, some lessons from an old, old poem:  (Originally published Jan 7, 2009)

A good friend, who doesn’t think himself an intellectual but who in fact is one of the best-read people in my life, sent me two different pieces over the last couple of months, both of which qualify as being old, if not ancient.  But which both speak volumes to our present environmental predicament:

Today, a poem that is at least 150 years old:

God’s Grandeur

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.

“the grandeur of God”

It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge |&| shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

Continue reading