Tuna and Rye and a Blade of Grass

At noon time meal today Bro. Juniper was rhapsodizing about the enormity of the cosmos and what difficulty it is in attempting to grasp it all, and he continued with fervor while tossing out grand matters of complexity mixed with enormous numbers that he had to explain the meaning of with ranks and files of zeros that seemed would fill hypothetical football fields. I am sorry to admit that my focus was not on light-years and ducentillion and photons, but on my tuna and rye. It was good, very good. After the meal, I decided to take a solitary stroll, I’m not sure if I was seeking a sort of quiet so that I could ‘grasp’ just a tiny bit of the enormity of what Bro. Juniper was so excited about. But then I stopped, stooped and plucked a blade of grass, and it was this blade of grass that I sought to ponder, but then it struck me, that this too was too much for me to grasp. A single blade of grass? I marveled at its greenness, then held it up to the sky and with the bright sunlight behind, could see the individual cells. Ah, I thought, perhaps I can grasp just one cell of this singular blade of grass. But no, this too seemed too much for my mind to apprehend, for even upon close inspection, this green island in a sea of islands was a vessel of enormous complexity. Botany 101 taught me this. This so tiny cell was in fact a dynamic powerhouse, a manufacturing plant, a converter of mystical rays of sun into food for growth. Ah, the enormity of it all, I thought, within this single cell were more and more realms of wonder, all the way to the carbon atoms and protons and the very very tiny quarks. And there it was, held between my thumb and forefinger, but now not dynamic life, but a plucked blade of grass dying a quick death. Bless even you blade of grass, an enormously complex creation -- a fingerprint from the hands of God -- yes, a beauty of which I will not soon forget.

Shalom,
Bro. Bartleby