nature – Wandering and Wondering

Presence

I stuck my hands in the dirt –

my fingernails give evidence to my folly.

I bent down,

dug holes,

and implanted hope into the ground

declaring another year will come.

I breathed the air deeply. It cleansed my airway, my lungs, and my mind.

Now it is as if cotton balls have been pulled from my ears

and scales from my I eyes.

The world brightens around me, and I am gifted with the chatter of God’s creation.

I hear the vibrating hum of the wings of this spring’s first hummingbird,

The water ripples of two geese gliding by,

The call of the loon across the lake,

The twitter,

twitter,

twitter

of the unseen.

I ask myself, “Is it this simple?”

“Can it be this simple?”

“Is it this simple?”

Rest in my garden, little one, and you will be renewed.

A morning picture on the lake that my husband took.

The Patient Fisherman

The fishermen have come to the lake.

They set their lines oh so patiently

and then seem only to wait.

Are they waiting for fish?

Or are they waiting for You to come by an holler,

“Follow me!”

They do not seem anxious in their waiting,

but instead extraordinarily patient:

Not a muscle twitches.

They keep just a soft finger on the line

ready . . .

Both of these poems were written by me and all rights are reserved. Permission is given to use in a religious or educational setting with attribution. Both pictures are taken in Wolfeboro, NH. The loons by me and the fog on the lake by George Adams. All rights reserved.

Yesterday, as I was preparing to leave for church, I looked out our backdoor to the lake and there I saw the beauty of creation in a way I had never seen it before.

I think it was a rare confluence of events that made it so. In the eves of the overhang to the porch were these fragile ice crystal cobwebs. They were invisible to the naked eye normally (not that we’ve been doing a whole lot of outdoor sitting these days in -6 degrees), but the kerosene heater with an outdoor vent had come on. It was very cold, and the eves caught the moisture.

Every moisture molecule that landed on the spider’s web froze immediately creating this crystalline creation. Each layer upon layer brought forward and made visible the beauty of the underlying design. It is surely a wonder to behold – similar to dew captured on a web as it glints in the sunlight. Part of the wonder in both of these situations is its impermanence. It was there in this moment, but within a few hours they were invisible again. It was a deep reminder to pay attention – deep attention.

When we think of prayer, we often think of words that we say out into the world, but perhaps we should expand our understanding to include that which enters into us as well. Perhaps our prayer is that moment when our breath is caught and all we can utter are syllables: “ahh”, “ohh”, “wow”.

Sacred noticing is a spiritual practice to always be on the look out for wonder and to be willing to pause the rest of the world so that you can fully take it in.

In this case, I called my husband over to behold it with me and he too offered the sacred prayer of “Wow! That is amazing.”

What have you seen today that has taken your breath away?

Tag: nature

Two for the day

Sacred Noticing