I was late on Wednesday (sorry again about that), so I missed the beginning of the class, and I assume the part where we talked by the river, but I picked up by the statue. Out of everything we looked at on Wednesday, it was the most out of place, it made no sense because it wasn’t at all natural. Paths can be formed by anything that goes the same way over and over, maybe not that well maintained, but they could be natural, a huge statue doesn’t occur naturally. And the point of the statue was to show taking nature and making it something less.
Walking through the woods was fun, but given how much time I spend in those woods, not to mention how much too close for comfort contact I have with the many varieties of prickly bushes so that didn’t give me much except memories of too many war games, and getting lost in the woods.
When we broke I went back to the water, stared over the James River from the bridge and then came closer. I went out onto trees that hung out over the water. It mixed blue, pink, purple, even slight gold tinges. It was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that makes you hold your breath and stare into the sky, the kind that demands pictures, the kind where you worship God in the silence and fall against the water, wanting to be a piece of it even if it’s just momentarily, longing for that connection, knowing that it has to mean something. It’s a hushed silence that can’t be touched, can’t be altered, but it’s tame. You want to stand there forever, but it’s a stillness that slowly fades away until it’s nothing. There is power to it, it isn’t the kind that stands up for itself, so like God. Something that is completely surrounding, but you’re asking where it is, standing there with it, wondering what it is and what it’s supposed to be.
I’ve seen other kinds, the kind of sunsets that you have to speak, or sing. I’ve seen the ones you have to scream they’re so drenched with power. I like those better. Sometimes it’s easier when God just comes out and says that He has power, is power. Otherwise you’re fumbling around in the dark, wondering where to go and watching sunsets. It doesn’t have to be that powerful, but the more of red, gold and flame there is, the more that the sky burns, the louder they are, the louder I am, and the easier it is to deal with the fallout. Sunsets go away quickly. By the time I had concaved myself to walk away the sun was beginning to dip and the sunset had already changed. Even the loudest one goes away and the only memory is the stars that burn in its place.