 By Jim Peterson
Take a moment to gaze at the image. Really open yourself to let it in and stir you. Be fully present to the scene and immerse yourself in it for a while. What feelings arise? What memories are stirred? Does some inclination to respond come to you? 2 When we wake up or are struck awake fortuitously as I was by this scene, and truly pay attention -- when we pay real, deep attention -- we come to see the world in an altogether new way. We “see” what is deeper, more real, more alive. The world shimmers with light, vitality, and unity, all held in love. Poets have long known this and expressed it in ways that open us to this wonder. Two examples: O world, I cannot hold thee close enough! Thy winds, thy wide grey skies! Thy mists, that roll and rise! Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag And all but cry with colour! That gaunt crag To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff! World, World, I cannot get thee close enough! Long have I known a glory in it all, But never knew I this; Here such a passion is As stretcheth me apart,—Lord, I do fear Thou’st made the world too beautiful this year; My soul is all but out of me,—let fall No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call. --Edna St. Vincent Millay: God’s World I have to wonder what scene Millay came upon that day. Certainly one comparable in awesomeness to the one I saw at Lake Tahoe. Such love does the sky now pour, that whenever I stand in a field, I have to wring out the light When I get home. --Saint Francis of Assisi Here Saint Francis does not seem to respond to an extraordinary scene that would catch the attention of all but the most jaded. He simply stands in a field, and sees with deep eyes. I recall an experience I had once when, upon going outside at midday for a walk I was suddenly struck by a light, a brilliance, an inner aliveness that seemed to pervade the bushes and trees nearby, and even to reside in everything I saw. It was as though the leaves were the very source of light, rather than mere reflectors. They seemed to dance and shimmer from an aliveness that came from within. The entire world seemed aglow. And I was a participant in it. I was indeed astonished! Though this experience lasted only a short while, I have since lived with the knowledge that what I saw then is always present, whether I notice it or now or not -- and I do get hints of it from time to time if I am paying deep attention. What astonishing experiences have you undergone that have opened you up to a deeper reality? Perhaps gazing on your newborn child, the wonderment of a new relationship, or … ? One of the barriers that keeps us blinded to the splendor of the world, is our practice of labeling what we see and, having labeled it, proceeding as though the label captures the essence. This is a useful practice for navigating our environment and our days -- if we stopped to truly see everything before us, we’d barely make it out of the house in the morning! But if we never stop and open to the wonder that is always all around us, we miss the heart of what it is to be alive. Sometimes it takes the actions of children to reawaken us to this wonder: the little girl reaching up to try to touch a butterfly, or a young boy delighting in making big splashes in a small puddle. My granddaughter wakened me to her wondering eyes once when (at about age 3) she lay down in the grass among the fallen autumn leaves, gazing up at the leaves still falling, and making “snow” angels with her arms and legs in the leaves already fallen. She saw just as Edna St. Vincent Millay saw. What habits or ways of making your way in the world have kept you from seeing with wonder and being astonished. Conversely, what opens you to being astonished? As you ponder these questions, may you find ways of letting your attentiveness lead you into an openness to astonishment. “Pay attention, Be astonished, …” Then, perhaps, you will be moved to “Tell about it!” Footnotes: 1 This is the second phrase in a three-phrase stanza (#4) of the poem, “Sometimes,” by Mary Oliver. The three together are: Pay attention; be astonished, tell about it! 2 The photo was taken at Lake Tahoe one afternoon. I was in a room overlooking the lake when I saw this happening outside and was so astonished, I quickly took out my iPhone camera and snapped the image. A pure gift, there for a moment and gone. Comments are closed.
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