With half-closed eyes
“In a momentary pause looking out the window I saw a beautiful, wholly natural vision at nightfall. This was based on an old unintended trick; I half closed my eyes. The window was covered with a spattering of fine rain, still raining slightly. The amber/peach glow of the city lights caught in the drops. In particular there was a set of floodlights (four together) that were turned on at intervals at the Dublin museum across on the other side of the Church, seen through the trees. The wind was blowing and gave the perception of animation to the golden brilliant light. Through my lashes the light blazed, stretched into two parallel bands, transmogrified, and appeared like a glowing singular star in the bleak of the cosmos, alive. I thought of it as signifying this birth. In my awareness I achieved a state of total awe and joy. When I had drank in this vision and accomplishment I glanced right, and perceived the same from the streetlamps across the street, achieved because the light itself was obscured by the candlestick.
The rim and glow remained visible and gave the impression of the sun in eclipse. The raindrops in the angle achieved the refraction of a galaxy of exploding stars. Their incidence became less in the growing distance from the central sun. Better yet, the vision also achieved animation, for at random moments a large enough drop would hit so that it streaked down the pane. In the refraction of light these appeared like stars falling across the cosmos. The star has given birth to many of its like and brilliance, I thought, exactly how it should be, and I rejoiced. And so the vision became mine, and in my happiness I accepted that from the simplicity of the most common circumstance I had viewed one of the most beautiful aspects of my life, and gave thanks. It was one of my rare joys this Christmas season.”