The Lights of the City
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There is a piece of land that juts out into the waters of Lake Erie. The house I am now renting looks right out onto that spot of land. Its called Lakewood Park. It has a set of walking paths that I amble through almost every evening.
In a long horse-shoe shaped coastline that extends to the east about five miles, you can stand on the shores of this jut of land and look across the water at the Cleveland skyline. Because we are now in the season of long winter nights, by the time I finish my evening meal and begin my walk it is dark. And because it is dark, I can see the city lights dancing on the water and adorning the silhouetted buildings in what is really a stunning view.
I love to walk to the far west end of the park and take the pathway from there that leads directly to the east. Between the branches of the deciduous trees that have long since dropped their leaves and that line the pathway, you can see that city skyline and its stunning array of lights.
I learned not long ago that this view, that of the city skyline of Cleveland from the west and looking east across that little horseshoe shaped bay, is the third most photographed cityscape – behind only New York and LA. What a treat that each night I can walk out my front door, amble down the park paths through wooded bluffs, and take in that view. It really is breathtaking – whether seen from the shoreline at the bottom of the bluffs or from the edge of the bluff above. Google a photo of the Cleveland skyline at night – and you will know why it is so captivating.
I used to sing a hymn whose refrain went like this:
I can almost see the lights of the city, shining down on me.
I can almost see the lights of the city, forever Lord I shall be free.
In a life and a world crowded with noise and work and busyness and anxiety and fret and concern and worry and fear and – well, you get the point: in such a life and such a world a quiet evening walk through a city park from which the lights of the city can be seen in their spectacular glory in order to quiet the soul at the end of the day – well, that’s a gift.
I receive that gift with deep gratitude.
Where is it you find your quieting place? Is it found in the lights of the city? Is it experienced on the rock by the stream in the heart of a near wood? Is it in the back pew of an empty church with deep shadows?
Wherever it is, go there often. Be at peace. Find the quiet. And rest in the comfort of knowing your soul and spirit can be healed on this, our journey Into the Mystic.
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