Faces, names, plants, and stars – Weston Morris

Holiness is in the new faces, names, plants, and stars.

The faces of all of the cows that we pass on the roads between Steamboat Springs and Hayden, Oak Creek or Yampa. Cows I no longer eat.

Jason, the manager of a local restaurant, who spent significant energy rescuing my phone from underneath the wooden floorboards of a sidewalk trying to hard to be quaint. He took his power drill back to Dude and Dan’s saying something about the might of karma.

The aspens, which I learned are capable of using their bleached white bark to perform photosynthesis during the winter time when the leaves have fallen.

The stars, which I think are technically the same, but look different because I’m thousands of miles from the North Carolina sky where the stars spent many, many of the last 365 nights winking at me. Whether or not they’re the same, I certainly can see more stars winking at me here.

I moved to Colorado looking for holiness. Faces, names, plants, and stars — I’ve found holiness in all the new.


IMG_6212When holy water was rare at best

It barely wet my fingertips

But now I have to hold my breath

Like I’m swimming in a sea of it

It used to be a world half there

Heaven’s second rate hand-me-down

But I walk it with a reverent air

Cause everything is holy now

Everything, everything

Everything is holy now

— Peter Mayer, “Holy Now”

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