How small our problems seem...

How small our problems seem at night, when we, with all the world, are embraced by the infinite black sky. Black covers up everything: all of our sins, our dirty fingerprints, the tears borne by our earthly miseries; and all of our blasphemous cries against divine providence become like whispers, engulfed in the ever-reverberating hum of the cosmos. You cannot shout into the sky without being mocked by the sound of your own voice. All our anger at the world, at people, and at God most of all, just seems silly then, like a grumpy child trying to escape the loving but disciplining grasp of his mother.

It is at that moment that we must learn to abase ourselves, to kneel before eternal Heaven, the multitude of it's stars pointing to our own smallness. If we do not surrender to the Infinite Embrace, if we too do not embrace, we can and will only suffer. We will become miserable and lonely old men and women, still angry at the world and at people, not willing to let go of our grievances, spiritually desolate, seduced by our arrogance and sense of pseudo-grandeur. They are a deluded lot who think that there is something romantic or glorious about raging before this earth and God's Heaven like a madman, necks stiff and egos puffed-up. But what glory can a man of good conscience and piety claim before the innumerable array of stars, clothed with light?

We must learn to kneel before the darkness, and to embrace the merciful black sky that does not hold our blasphemies against us. We must forgive our enemies, as the Teacher taught us, and we must love all men, accepting rebuke, misfortune, hate, treachery, and love in return, letting ourselves be swept up into the cosmic dance of Divine Providence. We must accept the fact that we simply aren't that important, but we must also see that we are infinitely loved -- loved by Him who is Love, the Philanthropic One, the Infinite Embrace: with His outstretched arms, He holds up the world.

How small our problems seem at night -- how small we are -- when we, with all the world, are embraced by the infinite black sky. Even our prayers begin to seem superfluous, and we verily find ourselves, though lost, in silent contemplation, forgetting all thought and words, trouble and misery, and anger and grievance before the Divine Darkness. And we see all the cosmos is drawn towards Him, like a magnet, or sun, or even black hole, into the depth of Himself, into the warmth of His bosom. Black covers up everything; nightfall quiets a noisy city, and the tumult of my soul.