A Beautiful End

We decided to make today count. And so we jumped in the truck, drove forty minutes with music on blast, then ran to the sandy beaches of Laguna Niguel.

We walked up and down the beach, barefoot and ridiculously happy.

We didn't really do anything, just walked and laughed and talked and laughed. Sometimes we just sat in silence and pushed the sand around with our fingers. It was perfect. As the light died down, we visited the small shops and shared a small cup of gelatto.

We wanted to avoid traffic and leave early, but as we were running towards the car, we saw this.

We smiled and looked at each other. It was the last sunset of 2010 - how we could just run by it? So instead of running to the car, we ran to the most picturesque spot. I didn't have the camera just then, and for once, I was grateful for that. I heard the seagulls and smelt the salt air.

A beautiful end to a beautiful year.

Benedictus es, Domine, benedictus es.


Colors of December


Dostoevsky on Love

"A loving humility is a terrible power, the most powerful of all... love is a teacher, but one must know how to acquire it, for it is difficult to acquire, it is dearly bought, by long work over a long time, for one ought to love not for a chance moment but for all time."

~ Brothers Karamazof


Advent: In the Waiting

I said to my soul, be still, and let the dark come upon you
Which shall be the darkness of God. As, in a theatre,
The lights are extinguished, for the scene to be changed
With a hollow rumble of wings, with a movement of darkness on darkness,
And we know that the hills and the trees, the distant panorama
And the bold imposing facade are all being rolled away [...]
I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning.
The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry,
The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy
Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony
Of death and birth.

~ T.S. Eliot, No. 2 of the Four Quartets


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