There was a virtual gathering for those of us who enjoy Off the Left Eye. That's a series of episodes that explores spiritual topics like heaven, the Bible, and embodying our beliefs.

 

One of the speakers explored the parable of creation and how it exemplifies the emergence of a compassionate person. As he spoke there was a slideshow of each of the seven days. The first stab of light breaking into darkness... waters hovering on two levels... grass appearing like third day stubble. 

 

My mind revisited the Sunday School projects I've offered to children over the decades. Crayon resist employed a waxy coat of color hidden by black ink. Then the child scratched away the darkness to discover light. Blue and green tissue paper applied with a glue wash looked much like water. I could even glimpse the faces of children I have loved, bent over their own creations. Where are they now? What affection hovers in their hearts from our mornings long ago?

 

The speaker compared the first set of three days with the second. The former entails ambiguity, while the latter triplet blinks with life. He compared the emerging vitality to that eruption of fresh goodness that arrives out of nowhere.

 

Which made me cry.  

 

A pulse of memories flooded in, when good things flew up like doves in a magic show. One time I was mired in self interest, too impatient to listen to a woman complaining. Then a bolt of empathy cracked me open. I recalled wading through indecision like murky water, when ideas like silvery fish appeared all around me, undeserved.

 

In that instant I felt grounded in the story. Even the nebulous parts accurately depict what it feels like to begin to be alive.