Perhaps, after all, our best thoughts come when we are alone. It is good to listen, not to voices but to the wind blowing, to the brook running cool over polished stones, to bees drowsy with the weight of pollen. If we attend to the music of the earth, we reach serenity. And then, in some unexplained way, we share it with others.
I am of Irish heritage, but I don't think this explains my love of the Celtic Cross. There is something unending, wise, and strong about the Celtic cross. And something serene. When I see a picture like the one above, I smell the dirt and moss and feel the chill of the air. I feel something ancient and astute rise up in me. I want to pull my collar up closer to protect myself from the salt off of the moor. I feel the joy of the Trinity, and yes, the sacrifice of God. I love Celtic Crosses.