In January, the temp agency had me three days in a row at an independent insurance adjusters' office. Each of those evenings, I got off the bus coming home, tired and famished, walking off some slight motion sickness--and after crossing the street, I walked past a little patch of grass with pinkish-purple flowers in it. After a full day of staring at a computer screen, and then the jerky, malodorous ride home, the beauty of this lush little island of vibrant plant life, sprouting in the midst of concrete, exhaust, and asphalt, pierced my heart every time.
I'm not sure I can even describe how it felt. Like catching a glimpse of paradise.
When Brandon's parents visited from Seattle in the winter, his mom commented on all the lovely blooming flowers here in Pasadena. It's true. There are always flowers everywhere.
Begonias and star jasmine line the way to Fuller campus; there are roses planted along the side of a beautiful old church building converted now into offices, near City Hall, on the way to train station; poppies and manzanitas in front of the library; and a stunning variety of camelias behind the apartment complexes on the way to the other train station.
Seminarians like to talk about "realized eschatology"--"the kingdom of heaven is among you"--i.e. heaven is already here. But actually, seminarians like me prefer to talk about "partially realized eschatology"--i.e. heaven is kind of already here. But there is still much more to look forward to.
It's kind of the paradoxical thing about beauty: it makes you at the same time feel filled beyond capacity, and content that this should be all there is, yet still somehow longing for more.
Anyway, I thought the painting turned out okay. Hope you enjoyed it and the kind of disjointed commentary. (-:
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