Cui cerca, trova; cui sècuta, vinci.
Badminton. Croquet. Bocci. I've never met a lawn game I didn't like.
This weekend, my family hosted an open house for about 20 kids and a few families. We provided the venue, the food, and a few boating trips, and they brought lawn games, beach toys, and anything else needed to make the day a success.
I hadn't played badminton for quite a while, and it was fun to play with such great teammates and opponents. I had a marvelous time.
That evening, I went down to the docks to cover our boat, when I decided to look at the stars for a while. I sat on the bow for about 45 minutes, just enjoying the shooting stars and watching the satellites move steadily across the sky.
Now, I'm a bit of star nerd. Yes, I have the charts, the glow in the dark books, and yes, I know the names of many of the constellations. But my favorite part about stargazing isn't observing, it's the way I start to settle back into my proper place in the world. I like stars, because in one way, their existence reinforces the insignificance and impermanence of my life. In another way, when I'm stargazing, I feel that my ideas are without limitations and I feel an excitement about how much we, the humans race, don't know about the world around us. There is still so much to learn and there are so many places to explore.
Wendell Berry shared a similar feeling in "A Native Hill":
"To walk in the woods, mindful only of the physical extent of it, is to go perhaps as owner, or as knower, confident of one's own history and of one's own importance. But to go there, mindful as well of its temporal extent, of the age of it, and of all that led up to the present life of it, and of all that may follow it, is to feel oneself a flea in the pelt of a great living thing, the discrepancy between its life and one's own so great that it cannot be imagined. One has come into the presence of mystery. After all the trouble one has taken to be a modern man, one has come back under the spell of a primitive awe, wordless and humble."
We should allow ourselves to spend more time quietly experiencing the natural world. It's good for our egos and our imagination.
That evening, I went down to the docks to cover our boat, when I decided to look at the stars for a while. I sat on the bow for about 45 minutes, just enjoying the shooting stars and watching the satellites move steadily across the sky.
Now, I'm a bit of star nerd. Yes, I have the charts, the glow in the dark books, and yes, I know the names of many of the constellations. But my favorite part about stargazing isn't observing, it's the way I start to settle back into my proper place in the world. I like stars, because in one way, their existence reinforces the insignificance and impermanence of my life. In another way, when I'm stargazing, I feel that my ideas are without limitations and I feel an excitement about how much we, the humans race, don't know about the world around us. There is still so much to learn and there are so many places to explore.
Wendell Berry shared a similar feeling in "A Native Hill":
"To walk in the woods, mindful only of the physical extent of it, is to go perhaps as owner, or as knower, confident of one's own history and of one's own importance. But to go there, mindful as well of its temporal extent, of the age of it, and of all that led up to the present life of it, and of all that may follow it, is to feel oneself a flea in the pelt of a great living thing, the discrepancy between its life and one's own so great that it cannot be imagined. One has come into the presence of mystery. After all the trouble one has taken to be a modern man, one has come back under the spell of a primitive awe, wordless and humble."
We should allow ourselves to spend more time quietly experiencing the natural world. It's good for our egos and our imagination.
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