Despite everything, I believed somehow there was time.~Lily King (From Euphoria)
He died suddenly while mowing his lawn. Somehow I wasn't surprised that he passed away while conducting a task. He prioritized work, performance and productivity. He found it hard to let go, to stop checking off items on the list, to stop worrying about what he would do if everything was lost in a hurricane or if his money ran out or if he could no longer accomplish the maintenance on his home. Or if he ended up alone. I asked him once what he most enjoyed. "Music," he said. "I used to go to concerts all the time." "What if you went soon?" I said. "Nah, I've got too much to do. Besides who would I go with?" "But what if you went anyway?" I challenged. He just smiled and shook his head.
The next time I saw him he said, "Guess what?" "Tell me," I said. "I went to a concert. By myself. It was outdoors, so I took a blanket and a picnic. Priscilla, I sat there and let the music absorb me. It was dusk, the sky beginning to fill with stars, the sky that kind of blue that makes you want to cry. All the songs of my youth. Memories galore. And it was really okay that I was alone. I didn't feel lonely, surrounded by all the other people and the music."
"Sounds like you grabbed a moment. Lived your life," I said.
"Yes. For once."
It is easy to be lulled into believing that we can get to "the living" when "I get caught up," or "when the kids are grown," or when "I have x amount of money in the bank," or "I've lost twenty pounds," or "I finish...(fill in the blank)." But what if we didn't?
I watched a movie this week, All The Money In the World. It is a story inspired by true events when John Paul Getty III was kidnapped by a mafia gang, and the boy's grandfather hesitated to pay the ransom, because it was too costly. His right hand man said, "Mr. Getty, you have more money than anyone in the world. How much money do you need?" Mr. Getty answered, "More." He died surrounded by his art collection, lonely and miserable.
We all have to make a living. We are designed to work, perform and accomplish. To expand our wealth and be productive. We are also created to experience joy and pleasure, rest and peace. Meaning and significance. Matt Haig, in his book, How To Stop Time puts it like this:
And just as it only takes a moment to die, it only takes a moment to live. You just close your eyes and let every futile fear slip away. And then, in this new state, free from fear, you ask yourself: who am I? If I could live without doubt what would I do?...If I could love without fear of being hurt? If I could taste the sweetness of today without thinking of how I would miss that taste tomorrow? If I could not fear the passing of time and the people it will steal? Yes. What would I do? Who would I care for? What battle would I fight? Which paths would I step down? What joys would I allow myself? What internal mysteries would I solve? How, in short would I live?
Ponder these questions. Perhaps Mr. Getty would say, "Don't be seduced by 'more.'" And my friend who died in a moment would implore you, "Get the blanket, pack your picnic. Let the music surround you."
I was walking in a dark valley and above me the tops of the hills had caught the morning light.
I heard the light singing as it went among the grassblades and the leaves.
I waded upward through the shadow until my head emerged, my shoulders were mantled with the light,
And my whole body came up out of the darkness, and stood on the shore of the day.~Wendell Berry (From the poem Returning in Wendell Berry New collected Poems)
One of my favorite things is to imagine myself ascending a staircase. When I reach the top, I find a balcony with a chair where I can sit and think or pray. Be still. The sky is taut and blue overhead. Perhaps a glittering, light-filled sea threads the horizon. I can stay for a while.
I have stairs in my house, and my writing office is situated in a little corner of the room. I can see the sky from my window. I like to imagine that I can see the ocean.
While in my safe alcove, I read and pray. Meditate. In Psalm 34:14 I read Make peace your motto. Practice being at peace with everyone. Then the footnote in The Passion Translation.
"Twice the Hebrew uses the word shalom. This word means much more than peace. It means wholeness, wellness, well-being, safe, happy, friendly, favor, completeness, to make peace, peace offering, secure, to prosper, to be victorious, to be content, tranquil, quiet, and restful. The pictographic symbols for the word shalom read 'Destroy the authority that binds to chaos.' The noun shalom is derived from the verbal root shalam, which means 'to restore,' in the sense of replacing or providing what is needed in order to make someone or something whole and complete. So shalom is used to describe those who have been provided all that is needed to be whole and complete and break off all authority that would attempt to bind us to chaos."
As a child, I liked climbing the stairs to the balcony at church. I wasn't old enough to understand the sermons preached by the minister, but I sat in the pew nestled between my parents and looked out over the rows and rows of people. I counted rectangles in the stained glass, sunlight pouring through the red, gold, blue and purple panes depicting Jesus carrying a lamb across His shoulders. Perhaps this location is where I first began to experience shalom, where I felt the beauty of God's peace releasing me from chaos.
Peace I leave to you. My peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.~John 14:27 (New International Version)
Shalom to each of you.
To stack the woodblocks for The Scarlet Letter in the corner cupboard with her sketch pads, pencils, and watercolors gave her an intense pleasurable feeling of being ready to live.~Wallace Stegner (From Angle of Repose)
This week I watched a movie, Where'd You Go Bernadette?, adapted from the novel by Maria Semple. The protagonist had experienced the knocks and bruises of life, and in the midst of her pain stopped creating. When she ceased creating, she simultaneously cut ties with herself, intensifying the pain. Have you ever experienced this? Have you ever asked yourself, "Where did I go?"
It is easy to lose ourselves in this culture. We can get submerged in the voices that define creativity and art. "Making art takes too much energy. One must have huge swaths of time to create." "You must be 'good enough' to sell what you make." "You must be like J-Lo (or insert anyone famous here) if you're going to sing. paint, write, or act." "You've got to have a lot of money to really be creative." "You must have a huge following on Instagram and TikTok." "You would probably need to quit your full-time job to really have the time to create anything."
The list goes on and on and on. We become submerged in the cultural voices and sink. What if it's really not that way at all?
Sometimes I've felt selfish that I consider being creative a necessity in my life. There is so much pain and loss in this world. What purpose does being creative really serve in a world where volcanoes are spewing orange lava and fires and murders and floods abound? Amidst the pain of the world, it's easy to get lost from ourselves too. But what if we allowed ourselves to float to the top of that deep resevoir of voices that speak so negatively? What if we let ourselves come up for air? What if we asked what moves us? What if we asked what we consider beautiful? What would that look like?
"I love to write letters," a young mother said. "I like pen and paper and envelopes. I like buying colorful stamps at the post office and placing them on the letters. I'm now connected with a church that provides letter-writing opportunities with persons in prison."
"I'm a doctor and teach a class at the local university. Not only do I teach techniques of surgery, but I also consider these men and women in my class persons who need mentorship in starting their own practices. It takes a lot of creativity and thinking outside the box to start a practice now, especially with so much student debt."
"Every time I lead a therapy group," a counselor told me, "I bring a beautiful image to show the participants. It's amazing how something beautiful can reduce anxiety."
"I love making homes beautiful," a woman who works for a cleaning company said. "I consider my artistic touch leaving the faucets sparkling. I make sure all my cleaning products have a gentle fragrance. I love the way I feel when I leave a house and know my clients will later walk in the door and feel so good to have a clean, fresh home."
A teacher told me, "I love reading the classics out loud to my class of sixth graders. When I read Black Beauty to them over several weeks, they never wanted me to stop reading."
A home schooling mother said she plays one note on her violin and allows the vibration to resonate in the room. "That one note can bring me so much peace and pleasure."
In the process of releasing our creativity, it's like playing that one note on the violin. We not only find ourselves, but we also emit a sound that carries the presence and heart of God.
It would have been nice to be back together, even briefly, in that pool of memory where no one else would ever swim.~Margot Livesey (From The House On Fortune Street)
My sister, Mary Anne, died in 2017. Her name means Star of the Sea; Grace; Beloved. These descriptions encapsulate the person she was. Due to COVID, I am not able to travel to gather with family and spread her ashes under a grove of Aspen trees. I mourn the fact that I cannot be there in person. I offer my tribute, and perhaps my words will blend with the whisper of the Aspens to create some form of presence.
Our family would all, even briefly, want to swim in that pool of memory with her. For one more day. What would she say to us?
I think she might tell us that she understands our grief and weariness in this cultural moment. She would urge us not to let sadness and powerlessness define soley who we are. Mary Anne loved beauty. I believe she would tell us to find beauty wherever we are. Every day. She was creative. She sewed countless quilts that grace our homes. I think she would instruct us to own our creativity in whatever form that takes in our lives. She was a lover of literature. I would only hope to read as many books as she did over her lifetime. I believe she would encourage us to read. To keep learning. She loved people. Mary Anne would exhort us to love people and offer grace, even to those we find difficult to tolerate or forgive. Mary Anne, too, was a woman of faith in God. I think she would assure us that God has good plans for us, not to harm, but rather to provide a future and a hope, because she has seen and is experiencing the culmination of this promise.
The Aspen is known as the sacred Celtic whispering tree associated with language, communication, the wind, endurance and resurrection. Let us cup our ears to listen. To hear her voice and remember.
And how good it feels to leave all that complete and appreciated and go on to something so much easier, but no less demanding of spirit and mind and body.~From Eugene H. Peterson's journal in the book, A Burning In My Bones by Winn Collier
A year ago, I retired from the helping profession as a counselor. I spent twenty-six years in the field. The work was a good fit for me. I had the privilege to engage with real and authentic folk, both patients and colleagues. I loved the people and loved learning new ways and paths to collaborate with them. I loved the one-on-one interaction. Listening. I never really dreaded going to work, but I became weary after a little more than a quarter-century. There was a part of me that could not wait to shut that door behind me. To rest. To declare a sabbatical.
The year has provided me the margin I so craved. I'd planned to work another few years, but I couldn't stick it out. I didn't want to. The well was drained. So, I've rested and encountered sabbatical. Basked in silence and solitude--spiritual, mental and emotional sustenance I never could seem to get enough of while working.
This week I read the biography of Eugene H. Peterson, A Burning In My Bones, by Winn Collier. You are likely familiar with Eugene H. Peterson as he is the man who translated The Message Bible. While I would never compare myself with this brilliant man, there were many parts of his personality that I could identify with. He exhibited dynamic and outgoing relationship and communication skills, though introverted. He pastored Christ Our King Presbyterian Church in Bel Air, Maryland for thirty years, and often felt pulled in too many directions--family, ministry, speaking engagements, writing. He longed for spaciousness and freedom. I related. I've experienced an ache and sadness to let go of my role as a helping professional, yet I do not regret my decision. Some ask, "Now that you've had your sabbatical, what's next?"
Mr. Peterson made this statement after he retired from the pastorate: I feel that to keep my sanity--my spiritual sanity--I must simply walk away from the demands and duties and create. Work at my own stuff. I am willing enough to return after a few hours to the responsible and the routine--but if I cannot pray and run and read and write I cannot live. Me as well.
This morning I read from Eugene H. Peterson's masterpiece: Show me how you work, God. School me in your ways. Take me by the hand. Lead me down the path of truth. From now on every road you travel will take you to God. Follow the Covenent signs. Read the charted directions.~Psalm 25:4-5, 10 (From The Message).