Phyllis Beveridge Nissila

 

 

 

 

In days like this

It is imperative

To “mind the moment,”

Quell the fear,

Defy

The urgent.

To remember (from)

Whence we come and (to)

Whence we go;

To remember the Power

Of the Unseen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some think the Origin of all is just

One dimension removed,

Others think eleven.

We see but bits and scraps

Moving in and out

Of our humble 3-D,

Tricking eye and logic, as

“The Spirit where he willeth doth blow”

Pulsing life

Through seed, stem, stock;

Hovering over head and heart–

Defying death in birth

Though fragile as thready tendrils

In a rocky field.

 

 

 

 

In the face of the bombs and bombastics

We can see, it is easy to overlook

The Other Who

Powers such small (not to mention big) things.

Though deemed inconsequential by

People of the lesser god,

In the fullness of time

Those intrepid roots and

Tender shoots

Grow to

Bud, bloom and fruit.

No fear

Can stop them,

Nor urgency dismiss them.

 

 

 

 

In spite of all,

They remain,

Giving respite

Hope, and

Courage to

Those who

Stop, if even for a moment,

To ponder

And remember:

And to note the power of smallest things—

A mustard seed, for example.

Minute, yet, at length,

Conquering countrysides.

 

 

 

And so, believers

Need not fear those who

May kill the body but who

Cannot kill the soul…

Ever.

In this, hope and courage

Root and grow.

~~~

The poet Sylvia Plath wrote of such bits and pieces as mushrooms, likewise small and

misunderstood:

Overnight, very

Whitely, discreetly,

Very quietly…

The small grains make room…

 

Perfectly voiceless,

Widen the crannies,

Shoulder through holes…

Nudgers and shovers

In spite of ourselves  (she writes as them).

Our kind multiplies:

 

We shall by morning

Inherit the earth.

Our foot’s in the door.

 

 

 

~~~

Some people view Plath’s poem through the lens of the power of the proletariat. I view it through the lens of the power of God, Who, even in arid places, hidden nooks, obscure crannies—in dark of night or bright of day—pulses life, albeit fragile, from His dimensions to ours.

For nothing stops Him.

(Look around, for example.)

“Let there be…” echoes, still, from the front edge of time, its force multiplying in both mushroom and in man, if you will; its power from another dimension out of reach of The Destroyer–out of the claws of he who, in reality, neither understands nor, ultimately, overcomes it.

~~~

I believe it is critical to our mental, emotional, and spiritual survival, these days, to savor the power of the Creator, Who is neither intimidated nor surprised by all the beauty, bucks, and brawn evil amasses against good.

Indeed, many believe, God has had a plan for it all along, even since before the power of free will, as potent as it can be, that turned/turns hearts from Him to jealousy, pride, and greed.

To this end, and to offer you the significance of a moment of respite and reflection far from the chaos ramping up, I share with you snapshots of other moments in time, some recent, some a few years old. But all attesting to the power in what might seem fragile; glimpses of the length, depth, and breadth of the creative force; the quiet, delicate, minute, breath-taking, awe-inspiring, digitized moments from His dimension to ours, as gentle reminders of Who we serve.

And Who serves us.

~~~

I am reminded also, these days, of a scene in the film Dr. Zhivago, where the protagonist, during his flight with his family from Moscow to his country home during the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917, is grilled by the commander of the occupying force who happens by on his official train. One of the occupying forces, that is. When asked what his purpose was, the doctor gazed at the commander for several seconds, then replied, simply, slowly, fervently: “To live!”

Indeed, we still get “to live,” even though the darkness would snuff out the light.

If it could.

Because, you see, ultimately and forever, it cannot.

Because…

The echo…

~~~

We still get to stop and comprehend

The real power, brains, and brawn,

Though “they” who push and prod  us on, seem formidable–“Nothing to see here,” they lie.

While truth flowers in every nook, cranny, and heart:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Jesus)

 

 

 

 

 

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Attributions and licenses

My thanks to siblings Andrew J. Beveridge and Barbara Beveridge de Dios whose pictures grace this page, unless otherwise noted. They see the light…

Image of mustard field from: www.videezy.com from https://www.google.com/search?q=creative+commons+royalty+free+images+of+mustard+bush

Image of mushrooms: www.stockfreeimages.com royalty free