An Open Letter

One cannot help but be in awe
when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity,
of life, of the marvelous structure of reality.
It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend
a little of this mystery each day.
Albert Einstein

Dear Al,
I feel like taping a gold star
   on your frumpy sweater!
It’s great that you, you of all people,
   step forward to validate the contemplation of mystery.
Long I have pictured you holding a stubby piece of chalk,
   scribbling impossibly complex equations
      that crawled the length of a classroom wall.
You’ve been the poster child for world-class
   intellectuality and rationality.
And then I read your words urging us to be contemplative,
   to meditate on the mysteries of life and eternity.
What an unexpected affirmation
   for this very different way of being and doing!
But, Al, I proceed to your second sentence
   and suddenly I want to twist your Einsteinian nose
      a solid quarter turn.
For you turn right around and tell us to
   “comprehend a little of this mystery each day.”
Comprehend?!
Mysteries like this are not meant to be comprehended!
They’re meant to be pondered,
   brooded upon,
      meditated about.
Contemplation isn’t about assigning answers.
It’s about sidling up next to the unanswerable
   while noticing what happens to your perspective
      about life and reality and eternity as you spend time there.
Take, for example, this image that beckoned to me
   not long ago in Death Valley.
I cannot explain it, nor do I want to.
I cannot say I understand it,
   even though I was right there
      when it suddenly leapt into my camera.
I don’t believe I’m supposed to comprehend it.
I believe I’m mostly invited simply to open to it.
That’s all I wanted to communicate, Al.

Quietly,
A sometime contemplative photographer