a still small voice
There’s a story in the Hebrew Bible about a prophet waiting for God on a mountain. A wind strong enough to shatter rock arose, but God was not in it. After the wind came an earthquake, but God was not in that either. After the earthquake came fire, fierce and ravenous, but God was not there. But after the flames flickered into nothing, came a still small voice. The immanence of the world condensed to a whisper. And when the prophet heard it, he knew.
I’m not a person of faith. I wouldn’t even call myself spiritual. “I rightly pass as an atheist”, Jaques Derrida said, and you could say the same for me. But I believe in stories. Stories like this one. I believe in what they have to say. I believe they cup themselves around truth and meaning, even if it isn’t truth with a capital-T.
Gary Saul Morson said in an interview that love is at its strongest when it “develops and thrives in an everyday environment”. It does not flourish or grow into something sustainable in “extreme situations or maximal intensity”. Its gift is its ordinariness. It’s prosaic nature. A new name in simplicity.
If you’re wondering where love has gone, where it is, or where it could possibly be, ask yourself if you’ve spent your life living and looking at extremes.
Listen for a still small voice.
Look for it in the little things.
P.S. ICAD Day 59-61 - Technically today is the last official day of ICAD, but I’m still enjoying it so much that I’ve decided to extend my participation by another 39 days to reach a total of 100 days. Wish me luck!
P.P.S. An a new A4 analog collage just because:
When I think of the stillness and silence needed in order to hear a voice as soft as a whisper, it reminds me of the meditation/prayer practices that are intrinsic to most world religions, as well as to atheism. I think of you, Duane, working in silence, listening for the small voice that creates through your hands--so quiet as to be more like a feeling than a sound.
The wind 💨 came to read this …& at this very moment 😊