7:30 BELLS: The Call of the Magnificent: Moon and Mountain

Saturday evening driving south, I saw the west side of Mount Rainier at sunset, the other side hidden. In the east, a nearly full moon rose. The mountain that rises from the earth and the moon that rises over the earth—how similar they were. On both the shadows of rugged rock. On both the wash of water color blue. The world was ringing for my attention.

Only half of each of these magnificences was visible. There’s so much of the world, of life, that we can’t see, don’t know. So much lost in shadow. Hidden by clouds. So we think nothing is there.

This is true of ourselves as well. And then something breaks through—in our dreams, our work, our beliefs, our unexpected response to a situation—and we have an intimation of the immensity of the hidden. Most of the time we ignore it until the mountain erupts in pain to get our attention.

As I drove I couldn’t look at this moment in time, these two magnificences—moon and mountain—the way I wanted to, because I was driving on the freeway.

And isn’t that the truth too? We’re so busy hurtling down the freeway of our lives that we don’t pull over for such moments. Don’t realize the importance of this witnessing and how it connects us to our greater world. Yet, we will pull over to answer the ringing phone, or risk an accident to talk on the phone while driving, even though we can always call back. The phone number is there. The person is there. What’s so important?

But the call of the sunset moment of the two magnificences passes forever. The ringing will stop, and we can’t call back.

Don’t miss it. Answer the call of any magnificence you are lucky enough to witness.