Faraway, too far to reach. . .

Have you ever had the experience where you are walking through the woods, talking to someone you truly care about, seeing a powerful film, playing with a child, listening to a song. . . and all of a sudden it hits you, this inexplicable feeling mixed with a thought mixed with a yearning. . . this idea that the joy you are now partaking of is just a miniscule sample of this huge ocean of joy, this incredible world that we have heard hints of but never really seen the full picture.

I had it yesterday, when, strangely enough, I saw a pattern of peeling paint on some steps. I got a hint of transcendent reality. . .

The hints are sprinkled everywhere in this world, these echoes of paradise, this whispers of God. It's one of the reason I love my kids so much, since they are newer to this world, I think they display these unvarnished clues a little better.

But of course there is a certain amount of heartache associated with these moments, because inevitably they draw to a close, at least in our current existence. The song ends. The game ends. The sight fades. . .

Which is why our hearts do yearn for more, a more permanent paradise. A satisfying culmination to our desires.

Whether you want to look at Solomon's Ecclesiastes or Hugh Hefner's life (sorry Hugh, I can see through your act -- I think most people can), it becomes clear that you can't quench these eternal desires by pursuing fleeting things. Obsession with youth and beauty, with highs and thrills, our drive to make money, to acquire power, to accomplish some matter of fame. When the moment has come and gone, you're basically left not with eternal joy, but as someone with haunting memories, unfulfilled wishes. . . So much of this world's ills are caused by people looking to the material world to quench their eternal thirsts.

I'd say that in general, if you observe the way this world is set up -- when something is yearned for there exists something which can fulfill that yearning. Thirst exists, as does water to quench it. Hunger exists, as does food to fill it. Plants reach out for sunlight, and the sun feeds them. A child cries out to be held, and a parent cradles him until comforted. Tastebuds work because things can be tasted. Olfactory nerves work because things emit odors.

In other words, for me, a deep yearning for something eternal is pretty powerful circumstantial evidence that there exists something which can fulfill that. We have, in essence, a 6th sense -- one that senses eternity. If eternity didn't exists, this 6th sense would make as much sense as ears in a world with no sound.

So these moments when I get a glimpse of something exquisitely incredible, something transcendent, I appreciate them for what they are. To me they are proof (at least as close as we can get to proof in this world) that there is something more waiting for me. And then I attempt to live this way, and I find that I get to exist more and more in this world that is waiting for me.