Sunday I read the following passage, part of a canticle by Thomas Merton in A Book of Hours, edited by Kathleen Deignan, and it resonated with the fiery light of sunlight flowers I encountered that morning.
For, like a grain of fire
Smouldering in the heart of every living essence
God plants His undivided power--
Buries His thought too vast for worlds
In seed and root and blade and flower,
Until, in the amazing shadowlights
Surcharging the religious silence of the spring
Creation finds the pressure of its everlasting secret
Too terrible to bear.
Then every way we look, lo! rocks and trees
Pastures and hills and streams and birds and firmament
And our own souls within us flash,
and shower us with light,
While the wild countryside, unknown, unvisited
Bears sheaves of clean, transforming fire.
And then, oh then the written image, schooled in sacrifice,
The deep united threeness printed in our deepest being,
Shot by the brilliant syllable of such an intuition,
And plants that light far down into the heart of darkness
And plunges after to discover flame.
Book of Hours, p 49 -50.
"Instructions for living a life:
Tell about it."
Mary Oliver in "Sometimes"
I've taken on a prayer practice of looking for the moments of light in each day, whether actual or metaphorical, and then writing or posting photos of what I find.