the consciousness of home

While on a weekend trip to New York, I was swallowed up in the energy of the city.  I walked among a constant throng of people and things made by people.  I walked on pavement and tile, through hallways of polished marble and through concrete.  I walked among artists and engineers, writers and taxi drivers, bankers and shop owners.  In order to catch a glimpse of nature, I stood still and looked up through the tunnel of buildings into the sky, alive with color, and watched as the clouds swept past, leaving me dizzy.

As I drove away from the city, the enormity of the skyline became smaller and smaller until the buildings became something tiny, reaching for the glory that cannot be tamed.  All at once I saw that something which had been engulfing me, an entire city, was nothing in comparison with something that was not made by human hands.  All that was left was inspiration growing and steeping inside my soul and a feeling of gratefulness that someone as insignificant as I can be intertwined with God and Man alike.  Divinity and humanity surround us constantly and we get to call it Home.