Saturday, October 05, 2013
Creative Platypus: Fragment
There was a time when I stood at the top of my drive way on a boulder (it was the highest point I could find) and looked out across the valley all the way to Monroe. It was Autumn, and the leaves were turning so that all the miles beneath me looked like a bowl of Halloween candy or a fire in a painting hanging on the wall. That's a trite way of putting it. Could you have been there, and felt what I felt you would know it for what it was: what Moses saw in the cleft of the rock, or Isaiah in the Temple: the oblique angle of the eschaton, the hem of the garment of the LORD. But how does one catch hold of falling leaves? It's not the passing garment of a Jewish rabbi. If I can but touch the hem of his garment I will be clean. How do I touch the hem of his garment?