The cosmos is the universe. The ancients generally viewed it all as a great body. Some have called it “Mother”. But it is a father too. It is that from which we came. Funerals and Ash Wednesday remind us that our fate is with a cycle of dust. There is a life-force at work, a circle, a field, and you and I got lucky to get born into it. We are unlucky that our world, like gravity, longs for us to forget our earthen home. It presses us ever onwards making us believe that we are something higher, something of a maker of this place.
I dwell upon the cosmos because I am a part of the whole. It all points to a greater One. I gaze at the cratered moon, and deep places awaken inside. I lie upon the sandy beach line and let the waves crash onto my body. I feel the power of the mighty ocean as it begins to bury me in its cycle. I am saddened that I live in a tradition that seeks to dominate this majestic land. I long to awaken to a deeper way, an ancient way:
“In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth…and cursed is the ground because of humans…who were not there when God laid the foundations while the morning stars sang together…for the earth is the Lord’s and everything in it…and even the sparrow is fed by the hand of the Father…who groans along with all creation which waits in eager expectation…for the new heavens and the new earth…”
I indulge my wonder on this blog writing about the cosmos and its glory.