Bright Sadness @ Café Revelation
This little snippet was written during my second year of medical school. I was sitting at my usual table at Starbucks in Broad Ripple studying when this "epiphany" hit.
Bright Sadness @ Café Revelation
It was the second week of Lent that I found myself studying in the corner of a coffee shop near my apartment. It was probably not the best place to concentrate on my studies with music playing and people coming and going, but being home alone had its own kind of distractions, too quiet, too isolated, too boring. The front and one side wall of the café were two large plate glass windows that met at the street corner. I would constantly find myself watching the flow of people on the sidewalks as they appeared beside the building, traversed the corner, and either crossed the street or continued on in front of the café. It was at this moment of distracted people-watching that I was seized by a deep melancholy.
It seemed to me at that moment that everyone and everything, including myself, was hopelessly flawed and disfigured. I desperately wanted everyone and everything to be good, beautiful, and full of light. I wanted to be good. Growing up I’d been taught that evil was intrinsic to human nature and that it permeates all things. Sitting in that coffee shop I received like an epiphany the truth that evil is not intrinsic to creation and that, in fact, creation glows with a divine and pure light. Evil is simply a thin curtain between me and this divine reality. It obscures the view, it dulls the edges, and to some extent it separates, but it is just a curtain and when I die I trust it will be snatched away.
Bright Sadness @ Café Revelation
It was the second week of Lent that I found myself studying in the corner of a coffee shop near my apartment. It was probably not the best place to concentrate on my studies with music playing and people coming and going, but being home alone had its own kind of distractions, too quiet, too isolated, too boring. The front and one side wall of the café were two large plate glass windows that met at the street corner. I would constantly find myself watching the flow of people on the sidewalks as they appeared beside the building, traversed the corner, and either crossed the street or continued on in front of the café. It was at this moment of distracted people-watching that I was seized by a deep melancholy.
It seemed to me at that moment that everyone and everything, including myself, was hopelessly flawed and disfigured. I desperately wanted everyone and everything to be good, beautiful, and full of light. I wanted to be good. Growing up I’d been taught that evil was intrinsic to human nature and that it permeates all things. Sitting in that coffee shop I received like an epiphany the truth that evil is not intrinsic to creation and that, in fact, creation glows with a divine and pure light. Evil is simply a thin curtain between me and this divine reality. It obscures the view, it dulls the edges, and to some extent it separates, but it is just a curtain and when I die I trust it will be snatched away.
posted by A. Monk at 6:24 PM
2 Comments:
Thank for sharing your epiphany. IT reminds me of Alyosha in the Brothers K, and of the modern orthodox theologian Phillip Sherrard, especially his book, The Sacred in Life and Art.
Great photos. They are ful of light, well composed, and thought provoking.
Thanks Joel,
I keep bumping into references to Sherrard's book in various Orthodox books and forums. Each time I tell myself, "that sounds right up my alley!" Now I really really must get it! :^)
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