In the early morning light a woman’s silhouette can be seen crossing the street. She stops and turns.
Can we learned from the winged creatures in our midst, attentive to the merest breeze? Do we too possess the same stillness with which to sense the movements of the Spirit?
Anar Rajabali marvels at the vibrant colours of the Okanagan on a summer afternoon, and how her eyes and mind are drawn up.
If we were birds, we would see trees as we often imagine God sees the world, down from above on the creation that grows up to give us places of sanctuary and rest.
In the early morning light, wonder is present within creation, each serving as a conduit of a particular, natural grace.
Have you ever scaled a mountain or even a small hill? What is it about the process of ascent? Are we following an intrinsic desire set forth by the desert fathers or our first fathers even, to seek His face?
As clouds scatter across the sky, viewers are drawn to the density of the landscape and the sheer creative expanse of creation, heaven meeting earth in tumbling abandon.
An old, worn tarpaulin is transformed from within by the presence of a torch. Are our worn frame so too capable of being lit by a Holy Flame?
As the sun banks in the low hills of the wadi, the power of a flickering flame brings old biblical prayers back to the tongues of those it illuminates.
Do we have the imagination to find the Divine in the midst of perfection? Where is the sacred to be found in the midst of mass produced perfection, arrangements set just so?
As the sacred streams in with the light over the kitchen sink, we look for God’s face in the ordinary space of the kitchen sink.
Death and birth are inextricable; loss makes way for something new. Can the flurry of autumnal leaves be a rustling of the Spirit in our midst?