How do you prove it’s not magic?

I love the pieces of shaped glass that bend light and create rainbows.

 

One can never learn enough about light: It seems perfectly appropriate that God created it first.

 

Science tells us that even at its inconceivable speed of 186,000 miles per second, light takes a bit more than eight minutes to reach us from the sun. 

 

And while I trust those facts and the math needed to determine them, here’s the thing: At the scale experienced in everyday life, a speed of 186,000 miles per second is instantaneous. The earth is 24,000 miles around at its widest. If it were possible to steer a beam of light on a chosen course, a laser beam I pointed at something nearby could travel around the earth nearly eight times and still strike its target in less than a second. 

 

Regarding the distances between bodies in space, since the sun is always pouring out light, it’s not as if we have to wait eight extra minutes until our illumination arrives. It’s always travelling in our direction.

 

I bring all this up because, as I sat down to write this column on Sunday morning, there were two perfect circles of light, each less than two inches across, dancing on the window.

 

Some of the light that had left the sun about eight minutes before struck a crystal I have hanging outside, turned a sudden corner, found itself projected onto the window and screen, and began sliding in gentle circles.

 

Recognizing the science behind it all did not disturb the allure and fascination I felt as I watched those two circles move and bounce, like two cheerful little fairies begging me to come outside and play.

 

As I watched them, I knew many things. I knew they would only be there a few minutes. After all, the sun is in constant motion and the angle of light hitting my crystal to make that particular bend in its path was changing as I watched. I knew I could not touch or hold the tiny, shining phenomena.

 

I knew they were lifting my heart, inspiring contemplation, and bringing a spontaneous smile to my lips. They felt like a tenderly delivered gift.

 

All the science I know doesn’t undo that.

 

The term “coincidence” is made up of root words that simply indicate a number of things happened at the same time. It does not say “it can’t be magic.”

 

A whole set of natural and explainable circumstances created the two circles of light. I saw them, was taken by surprise, and became delighted by their symmetry and the quality of their motion. I had the time and inclination to watch, enjoy, and genuinely consider them.

 

So yes, it was “coincidence.” It was also beautiful, uplifting, and an inspiration to contemplate God’s handiwork. And now, by coincidence and using the magic of the written word, you’ve had a few moments of contemplation as well.