Detail
April Ambles: Reflections of a Philosophical Forager — Day 16
As I wander the woodlands, I am captivated by detail everywhere I look: the droplets of water caught in fresh new leaves after an afternoon shower; the veins of decaying leaves, soon to be covered up with undergrowth as spring spreads rapidly across the land; the bird-like quality of the showy orchid flower, pale pinky-purple, just now open to view; the heightened color after the storm has passed; the rapid spread of green through the forest, only a short time ago dominated by grey; the play of light as clouds move overhead.
The details of the woods, as the details of our lives, can seem overwhelming. Which ones do we zero in on? Which ones shall we try to capture with the lens? Which ones do we wish to share with someone when we return home? Which shall we keep in our private memory banks?
As God is in the detail, so each detail enters us and shapes us. We are each a portrait of all the details in our lives. Some define us more than others. Some are hidden to all but those who know us best. Some elude us, even as they live within us. Some are discardable; others we polish again and again, as they tickle our souls.
Some painters linger in detail, spending hours, days, months on the same canvas. Others make broad strokes and leave the detail to the imagination of the viewer. My mother is one of the latter. As a child, I was taught to see with her bold, broad strokes, while my father taught me the details.
Sometimes I amuse myself by switching from micro to macro and back again. Each yields a different perspective, and I am grateful to each for the contrast they bring to my days.
For more amblings from the author, check out Child of the Woods: An Appalachian Odyssey.
