dancingthroughchaos

Nature was here a series of wonders, and a fund of delight.’ – Daniel Boone (American pioneer and explorer)

Having reached my milestone birthday this month (which was neither so overwhelming nor so intimidating as the one that popped along twenty years ago), I’ve been doing some reflecting about people, places and experiences.  

Over the years, I have been fortunate to travel to a wide variety of places. I’ve seen the Egyptian Pyramids, the Great Wall of China, the Eiffel Tower in Paris and the Petronas Twin Towers in Kuala Lumpur.  Each is extraordinary in its way and a testament to the ingenuity and skill of its designers and builders, but none of them is as impressive as the natural wonders I’ve seen: rolling hills, clear oceans, expansive deserts, haunting glaciers and wildlife of all shapes and sizes.

I was reminded of this truth a couple of weeks ago as I took in the impact of Mount Kilimanjaro complete with vast herds of wildebeest, zebra and elephant grazing nonchalantly at it’s foot.  The sight of flocks of flamingos of the brightest pink, busy filtering their breakfast in still waters which reflected their vivid plumage so effectively was, literally, breath-taking.  In a landscape where Africa has spilt it’s spice rack of colours so effectively, and where camouflage is so vital, the contrast is stark.

Kenya certainly has the best view of the mountain just as, it turns out, Zimbabwe has the best view of Victoria Falls.  About twenty years ago, when the kids were small, we saw them one sweltering August from the Zambia side. They were impressive. This new perspective was even better.  Approximately two thirds of the falls are accessible to view from the Zimbabwe side with sixteen strategically placed viewing points.  The water is in full flow in May, but October still offered us refreshing spray and spectacular views.  In temperatures pushing 40ºC, both were welcome!

The difference between the natural and the man-made edifices and monuments is hard to measure but, while I can – and do – admire the design and engineering feats of talented people, it’s the God-designed ones that refresh my soul.  Being in the African bush is always wonderful (though less so when you discover you have sustained a puncture, or taken a wrong turn and driven an unnecessary bone-jangling 28km on a scoured and rocky road where potholes have given way to trenches and open chasms); the plains of the savannah are just as peaceful.  Watching the mighty Zambezi hurl itself over the basalt edge of Victoria Falls is an experience that reminds every open-mouthed visitor of the frailty of humanity and the forces that still shape our planet, over which we have very little power.

Obviously the scale of these two landmarks makes a difference to their impact on the viewer.  However, there’s also mind-boggling wonder to be found in the complexity of the human hand, a piece of fruit or a single-celled organism.

When I’m feeling overwhelmed by the world – and surely only those who live in cloistered environments are not, from time to time – I remember a written reference to common sparrows from hundreds of years ago.  In those days, two sparrows could be purchased in the market for a penny.  A contemporary of that writer noticed that five sparrows were priced at two pennies.  In other words: buy four, get one free.  Perhaps the earliest recorded BOGOF offer.  Either way, that fifth sparrow could have felt small, worthless and irrelevant.

‘Yet’, the writer claimed, ‘not one of them is forgotten by God.’

Regardless of age, I think that at times we all suffer from ‘fifth sparrow syndrome’*.  Whether I’m standing in awe of creation, cramped on the London tube, wrestling with a piece of writing that won’t come together, cooking a meal, contemplating a complex form that requires reams of information to be filled in scarcely relevant to the topic or am soaking in a bath, remembering that truth is both comforting and invigorating. 

Sparrows are found the world over, so it’s a universal truth crossing cultures, colour and creed.  Small, common, but far from worthless.

Perhaps it will encourage you today, regardless of your age.

• This concept was first suggested to me by the writer and speaker Max Lucado

[Sparrow image from Pixabay]