(I haven’t been able to find out who originally took this marvelous picture, in my searching of the web. They deserve credit. The timing is perfect. If anyone discovers who the original photographer was, please tell us in the comments below.)
(Apparently the photograph is from Mongolia. I bungled across the picture while researching the gloomy subject of the current Dzud in Mongolia, and it sure helped fight off my gloom.)
Sometimes intellectual arguments cannot reach us in the manner the above picture can. It is not that a picture is worth a thousand words; it is that no amount of words can persuade us to budge from a particular intellectual stance, for it not a matter of the head but of the heart. The word that describes being budged in this manner is “touched.” Our heart must be “touched”. The funny thing is that “touched” can mean “produce feelings of affection, gratitude, or sympathy in”, but (because it is beyond the intellect) it can also mean “slightly insane”.
My Dad had every reason to scowl
At the sun, but I was just a teen
And full of good advice. As round-eyed as an owl
I’d tell him that life was nice, for I’d seen
Sunny things. He’d then scowl at his son
But have to laugh. I’m not sure why. He’d say,
“A little bit of God is in everyone”,
And leave it at that, leaving me to pray
That I might understand how such a bitter
Man could beam, and be so spiritual,
Before I spoke my sermon. The glitter
I called proofs became strangely dull,
As the Dad who had been dark grew brighter.
My youth, and not my mind, was the enlighter.