Observing the rhythms of nature and recurring cycles of the year, Henry Beston describes what he calls the "pilgrimages of the sun" across the sky, and at night, strolling the beach, "the dust of the stars" that fill "the night sky in all its divinity of beauty." For a moment of night, we have a glimpse of ourselves and of our world islanded in its stream of stars--pilgrims of mortality voyaging between horizons across eternal seas of space and time. Nature is a part of our humanity and without some awareness and experience of that divine mystery we cease to be human.
To all that is chaotic in you,
let there come silence.
Let there be a calming of the clamoring,
a stilling of the voices
that have laid their claim on you,
that have made their home in you
that go with you even to the holy places
but will not let you rest,
will not let you hear your life with wholeness.