spontaneity and nature and love (and run-on sentences).

Last night I looked up at the sky and felt dwarfed. I'm reminded of a line from Ps. 8, "I look up at your macro-skies, dark and enormous, your handmade sky-jewelry, moon and stars mounted in their settings. Then I look at my micro-self and wonder, why do you bother with us?" Except, I didn't wonder the second part.

Then I turned to go inside and glanced up again, a retreating look, and saw the big dipper. My favourite constellation (because it was always the only one I could find until the past few years) glowing brightly; jutting out against the deep plum and watery blues of the sky. I teared up a bit.

I'm a sap, I know.

But sometimes... I just look at nature and think, wow. What an incredible God we have, to have blessed us so much. And how awesome it is that I can experience this. Like Sunday night, when I hiked through Wintergreen Gorge and its accompanying creek with my friend Brian. Standing knee deep in creek water and staring up at at least 100 feet of solid slate rock forming a gigantic, imposing, thunderous wall, I realized... this is the life. I doubt there's much better.

Oh. And that feeling, that heart-pounding, gut-wrenching, stomach-in-throat feeling that comes as you stare down from a ledge to the rocky pool maybe 10 feet below, wondering if you'll have the nerves to jump. And then stepping backwards, running, pushing off against the last bit of dirt at the edge of the drop off with trepidation and carelessness, wondering if you're going to regret this and unable to quell the scream of fright, wonder, craziness, and amazement that rises in your throat as you sail through the air, heading downwards so fast and so slow at the same time that the world seems to stop. And then, whoosh, hitting the surface of the water and obiedently crumpling your legs beneath you so as not to hit the jegged rocks that lie six feet or so under the depths, fighting up to the surface, flipping back your hair, and grinning with pride.

That's taking life by the horns, I'd say.