Thing seen and unseen

A reflection from Lee Abbey

Standing on the cliff at Jenny's Leap on a warm but misty day, I look out over the sea but see only the grey blanket of fog, impenetrable, blocking my vision.

Immediately below I see the waves breaking on the rocks, messengers of an unseen power. Unseen but not unheard. The sound of the sea is strong, the crashing and heaving of the waves. By its effect, I know it.

In memory too, the sheer expanse of beauty is clear to me. The blue of sea, the curves of cliffs, the rocky beach, the distant horizon; I remember them well, I know they are there, beyond my sight but not beyond recollection.

A gull flies out from the mist, visble for seconds before merging once again with the haze. A brifly glimpsed emissary from the vastness beyond, carrying on its wings the promise of reality remembered; linking seen and unseen.

Just a few moments in one special place but an experience so often repeated.

How often I am only able to see what is immediate, my vision limited to the jostling of matters demanding attention. And beyond that the recollection of a greater expanse, a sublime beauty, the promise of eternity borne on the wings of the Spirit, calling me back to God.

 Jenny's Leap and other scenes around Lee Abbey