By Jim Peterson


Wake up. Look. See!
To pay attention to life
Is to gain one’s life.

What, wisdom asks, do you get when you really pay attention to your life? A life! This suggests that life in its fullest is lived only as we pay attention to it. On the reverse side, it has been observed that that of which we are unconscious rules us. Our behavior is largely shaped by forces, dispositions, habits, beliefs, assumptions of which we are mostly unaware because they are so deeply embedded in our body, psyche, and spirit. We can sleep our way through life spurred and guided by such unconscious influences. But this need not be the case; we can wake up, the first step on the journey of spirit. The antidote to walking through life in our sleep is the practice of paying attention.

The Hebrew scriptures tell the story of Moses encountering a burning bush in the wilderness.
When he sees the bush ablaze yet not consumed, he stops, turns, and pays attention. Elizabeth
Barrett Browning captures such a moment as only a poet can:
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“Earth’s crammed with heaven / And every common bush afire with God, / But only he
who sees takes off his shoes; / The rest sit round and pluck blackberries.” [Excerpt from
Aurora Leigh]

I like to think that the bush Moses saw was ablaze all day long, and many a traveler had passed
by unseeing; only Moses was practiced enough in paying attention to see something more than
a brightly lit bush.

Have you ever experienced something like this: seeing something or someone with wider
eyes, with the eyes of the heart, where something more, something deeper that is there
all along is revealed?

But there is more to the story. It goes on to reveal that when Moses paid attention, he was
instructed to take off his shoes – this was holy ground, after all; it is sacred space that we enter
when we pay deep attention. Then Moses is addressed by a voice from the bush that ultimately
leads to his calling to be the leader and former of a nation. The steps in this story are: stop /
turn / attend / listen / and respond. Moses full life is revealed and turns on this experience,
which starts with his paying attention.

The challenge for us is that paying attention in this deep way is hard work. It takes intention, an
act of our will. And it is fraught with uncertainty and fear: What will we “hear”? Will it call for a
response that we don’t want to make (Moses, indeed, argued vigorously with God about his
calling). Will it dislodge us from our comfortable life (shepherding, in Moses’ case)? Will we be
safe afterwards? Will we be alone; who will accompany us? These are fundamental questions of
life’s meaning, of safety, of belonging. Sometimes it is so much easier to stick with sleepwalking
through life where these questions can be kept, we imagine, at bay.

For us to take the risk of paying attention we need to open ourselves in trust that this is what
the journey of faith requires and that we come into the fullness of who we are and are meant
to be only in this way. This is not a trust that we can gin up for ourselves. It must be uncovered,
discovered, received, taken in. While life experience can sometimes undermine this process of
trust building, it is when we attend to life more fully that it can generate, build, and sustain our
trust. If we cannot find it readily within ourselves, the deep trust in Life we observe in others
can help. Here too, paying attention (in this case to others) is a fruitful practice. Moreover, trust
builds on trust, and if we step out in small ways, the results can make bigger steps possible. The
underlying engine of this growth is the practice of paying attention and in doing that,
responding as we are able.

In what ways has trust grown in you? How has your own attentiveness to unfolding life
played a role in this growth?

Ultimately, our trust is in the “voice” we hear from the burning bush – in the “more,” the
universe, a higher power, or the mystery we call God (or any of several other names). It is, at
heart, a relationship. It is not just a “what” we are paying attention to, but more deeply a
“who.” As we pay attention more and more to this “who,” we discover more and more the
fullness of our own life.
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Wake up! Look and see. And gain your life.

By Eleanor Mendoza Whitney 

Last night I was standing on my driveway marveling at the moon. It was a “gibbous moon.” Instead of the full, bright, round moon, a gibbous has shadows that make it look misshapen and smaller than it actually is - like a melting scoop of ice cream. But no matter how the moon appears to us, in reality it is always the same in size and shape. It is only our perspective and the light that illuminates it that make it look like a wan crescent or a misshapen scoop.

It reminds me that as we move around in the world, there are parts of ourselves that we show to others - parts that we keep in the light. Perhaps these are the parts that we think will be appreciated by our community like, “going along to get along.” Maybe we fear that if we show our whole selves, we will not be accepted. We may rely on what we know has worked for us in the past and do seek out new tools or points of view. Whatever the reason, we can end up with only part of ourselves illuminated, like the gibbous moon.

How can we explore the parts of us that are in shadow? Here are a few ideas: 

• We can ask those who know of us best - trusted loved ones.
• We can look to professionals like therapists, pastors or spiritual directors.
• We can take time to reflect on our inner voice. “I’ve always wanted to learn more about…”

Lately, I have been exploring my own shadowy personality parts by studying a system that is well-known by many people in the field of spiritual direction - the Enneagram. This system differs from some other personality indicators like the Meyers-Briggs in that it describes each personality type (there are 9 total) and also offers clues to understanding those parts of ourselves that might feel too vulnerable to talk about. It also recommends paths for spiritual growth for each type.

For myself, I learned that sometimes I prize peace and harmony at the expense of having hard conversations. While I already had some understanding of my tendency, putting language around it has helped me to stretch into some uncomfortable places. While I value peace, sometimes I need to speak up and make my voice heard. In this way, a little bit more of me comes into the light. I may never be a “full-moon” but I find that the more of myself I can bring into the light and share with those around me, the more freedom and fulfillment I find in life.

If you are curious about learning more about the Enneagram, we will be having a gathering for spiritual directors on Oct 19th online with Rev. Carol Hovis. See more info here.

By Savoy Stevens 

Transformation is messy. It often feels like everything is falling apart before it comes together. Yet, in those broken places, God’s love shines the brightest. The discomfort we feel in times of change is not a sign of God’s absence but a powerful reminder of His transformative work in our lives.

In Genesis, God speaks into the chaos of a formless world, bringing order and beauty from what seems like nothing (Genesis 1:1-3). Similarly, when we experience the chaos of life changes, God is there, speaking order and beauty into our confusion. The “ugliness” we encounter during transformation is part of the journey toward something greater. As Leonard Cohen so beautifully said, “There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.”

When we feel broken, when life doesn’t go as planned, we can trust that God is working in those very cracks. Transformation often means discomfort, but it’s in these moments that God molds us into vessels of His grace. Like the Israelites wandering in the wilderness, yearning for God’s presence, we too find God walking with us through the mess, preparing us for something more.

So, if you’re in the middle of life’s chaos, know that God’s light is breaking through. He is with you, and He is making all things new—even when it feels like nothing is going right. Trust the process. God’s beauty is woven into every moment, and His presence never leaves you.

By Brooke Maffia Wang
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At 8 years old my daughter wanted a snake, tarantula, turtle, or a fox. I agreed to a fish. A week after getting the beta fish she named Luno he seemed at the end of his time with us. However, he hug on for weeks. Just lying at the bottom of the tank. I changed the water, lighting, and tried all the things to help him do more than just exist. Shocked he was still alive we decided to get three guppies to live in the 2 gallon tank with him, mostly to make my daughter feel better about having what she called “a boring fish.” 

A day or less after we added the three lively guppies to the tank his behavior totally changed. Luno would swim around the tank, sleep behind the filter instead of on the rocks on the bottom, and looked as happy as I assume a fish could look. All we did was put him with other fish. He didn’t particularly seem to want to play with them or like them, but having them there completely changed his behavior.

I realize he is a fish and us humans are completely different animals. (And, hindsight we learned that you’re not supposed to put beta’s with guppies. Oops.) However, by watching what happened with Luno my soul was a reminded of how important the people around us are. Community is not a suggestion, it’s a necessity for life. And, it can be hard. Sometimes we don’t get to choose who we are in community with. 

In this transition place of summer ending (or ended, we’re in full swing of school and sports) and the new semester beginning, consider taking a few beats to notice the different communities you find yourself apart of.  Which ones are life-giving? Which ones require more from you? Within those spaces, what do you offer and what do you receive? Are there any that you’ve outgrown or perhaps a new one inviting you in?