May 2018

Reflecting Poolwith Reverend Greg Coles, M.Div

                                        How sad would be November if we had 
                                 no knowledge of spring!

                                               -- Edwin Way Teale

Nature is such a teacher.  I was observing one of the many robins visiting the “park,” which is my back yard.  She hops, then pauses to cock her head,    listening.  Then, she drives her beak into the grass and pulls out an earthworm.  I marvel at her innate skill and dexterity.  

I did some research to discover that robins can actually hear the earthworms moving below the soil. More fascinating, I discovered how plentiful earthworms are, with estimates of between 250,000 to 1,750,000 earthworms per acre. You could have more than a million earthworms in your backyard!  In fact, the weight of earthworms below a farmer’s soil could be greater than his livestock above the surface.  What we can’t see is greater than what we can see. 

Just as we can hold up an apple and see just an apple, within that apple is the potential for thousands or even millions of apple trees. Once again, the Universe models for me that there is far more available to me in the invisible realms than in the visible. There is greater abundance within than without. My real work is to cultivate the rich soil of my invisible power that is within consciousness, where the I Am of God resides. 

May each of us see beyond the veil of outer conditions in all things, and place our faith in the invisible truth and power that lies within us. 

While visiting with my Mom this week, she pulled out a poem I had written, “Is it Really Spring?” printed in the program for my grandmother’s funeral. It served as another reminder of life after life, and the eternal truth of spring that flows in all areas our lives, no matter the outward condition. I share it here with you: 





Is it Really Spring?
By Rev. Greg Coles


Could it be, tiny sparkles of brilliant green illumine an otherwise dark and

grey view from my balcony, where I sit, looking at what I still thought were

barren trees. In the distance, another tree, that holds desperately to

orange and brown leaves, that appear dead from two seasons ago. Is it not

ready to let go? While others burst forth with new growth, I wonder.  And

then a redbud next to the orange, catches my eye, filled with bright buds

of promise, ripening, to burst with blossoms for the spring. 


I wonder about the orange colored tree, dried and withered in appearance.

Has it died, unable to let go as it should have in the fall? Or will its leaves

be forced to release and become free, as new growth pushes outward from

the within? So many different cycles of energy and possibilities.


And what if my friend, the tree, has died - to be removed naturally or by landscapers - to become mulch and soil for the other trees, only an illusion of death. Only a transformation, before my very eyes, if I have eyes to see.