on holiness

Warning: I'm about to go all sentimental or something. If you are squeamish, avert your eyes.


A few days ago, my friend Yael posted a humorous YouTube of meowing little kitty cats waiting to be fed. When they finally got served, things got real quiet....just deep, involved munching. That video has stuck with me. When those kitties were chewing and chewing, it seemed to me that all was, for a few moments, right with the world. A form of holiness seemed to hover over their little heads, and over my own soul.

This got me thinking about other forms of holiness. Besides those traditional kinds involved with ritual and religion. About what happens, occasionally, outside cathedrals, temples, and mosques. What happens simply and spontaneously out yonder, in the “mundane” world.

Simple things. Simple actions. Simple observations.

A mother or father preparing a meal. A mother or father teaching a child to tie shoes, or fly a kite. A husband or wife, in a moment of suspended time and suspended normality, glances at the beloved and senses an aura of precious individuality. A flower found blooming unexpectedly in late spring, just because it's there. The sound of rain in a summer's early morning. That rumor of autumn caught in August air. The wind through pines boughs before frost in November. The silence of snow, telling us the past and future are one. A friend sensing the need of another, though time and space intervene.


And little kitties filling their little bellies.