I know I don’t see things as I ought. I see “dimly as
through a glass”. If I have a weakness
in regard to my “vision” it would not be my inability to sight fish or to see the
fly but rather it is my inability to truly see and to deeply appreciate the
beauty around me. And so today, while I was in Eleven
Mile Canyon
guiding, I could plainly see the trout rising to tiny tricos but I had a sense
that I was missing something. I was seeing but only dimly.
I have often wondered if I truly could see the beauty of a person,
a sunrise, or a single fish, that such images would overwhelm me. Perhaps my
nervous system would not be able to handle it. In C.S Lewis’s fantasy book,
“The Great Divorce”, a group of people have left a bus begin to notice how different
nature becomes as they make their way up the allegorical heavenly mountain. The
sky becomes bigger and wider. They observe a water fall with such a thunderous
roar that they conclude that if such a water fall were back on earth they would
not be able to endure it. It would be too “big”. C.S Lewis writes, “A waterfall was pouring. Here once again I
realized that something had happened to my senses as that they were now
receiving impressions which would normally exceed their capacity. On earth such
a waterfall could not have been perceived at all as a whole; It was too big.
Its sound would have been a terror.”
I think of the poet Rilke who seemed to understand the
power, wonder and even the terror of beauty,
“Beauty is the beginning of terror… and threatens to annihilate us”. I wonder if some things in life are so
beautiful and wonderful that we cannot handle them. I think of the old
scripture, “No one can see God and live”.
And again of Rilke who wrote, “Even if
one angel pressed me suddenly against his heart: I would be consumed in that overwhelming
existence.”
I know there have been times when I have stood looking at a
river at sunrise watching mist come up off of the river and the image is so
beautiful that I almost cannot endure the experience. I almost have to look
away or change the channel in my head or focus on only one aspect of it all,
such as trying to catch the rainbow rising on the far bank.
I wonder if in the end if we are to ever find our way up to the
heavenly mountain that we will have to be changed in order to endure such overwhelming
beauty. Then I might truly be able to hear and see a river. And be able to truly
see and endure the beauty of a fish.
For now, I can still see those tiny tricos falling in Eleven
Mile Canyon.
I can still see fish rising to them. I never had a problem with that kind of
vision. But, I know if I truly saw even a single trico mayfly, one
of the tiniest of bugs, that it has enough glory to overwhelm me and I would not endure.