Letting our soul catch up
I love the heartening story Sue Monk Kidd tells about her grandfather.
“My grandfather was a lawyer, a judge, and a farmer. He was frequently busy and conquesting, but I remember also that he sometimes entered the golden moments of wu wei. He and I used to go fishing at one of the little ponds on his farm. He would sit and hold his cane pole over the water, becoming as still as the stumps that jutted up from the water. I usually tired of fishing fairly soon and went on to other things, like dandelions.
One day having given up on the fishing, I was playing in his old black truck when I noticed that his fishing bait was still on the seat. I remember being surprised that my grandfather had been out fishing an hour or more without bait. I grabbed the bait basket and raced over to him, ‘Granddaddy, how can you fish without bait?’
He tilted back his hat and smiled as if he had been caught in some delicious secret. ‘Well, sometimes it’s not the fish I’m after,’ he said, ‘it’s the fishing.’”
(Thank you Sue Monk Kidd, When the Heart Waits)
That’s not easy to come by in a world where we are reminded to live life faster, bigger and newer… in order to claim the “life we deserve” (something about arrival being more important than the journey).
In the meantime, of course, life is full. And often, difficult, complicated, messy, frustrating and demanding. Tell me if you can relate; we are often equal parts tired, exhausted, overwhelmed, stressed, frazzled, plum tuckered, sapped, running on empty, done in or overbooked. Or feeling stuck, even trapped. And at times, we are without a clue as to why.
I recommend Dominique Browning’s book, Slow Love. She lost her high-profile job as the editor of House and Garden magazine, her beloved house in Westchester, her sense of purpose, her sense of proportion and her sense of self. “I am long past due for a personal renovation,” she writes, “but my toolbox feels empty.”
What she discovered is that when the toolbox feels empty, that’s the best time for fishing.
Okay, sign me up. Let’s make Sue’s grandfather’s wisdom our invitation. Fishing means, “be there, when you are there.” Yes. Pause, to be at home in your own skin.
There must be more. Or, am I afraid to simply be? Whatever that may be: uncertain, hopeful, empty, optimistic, lost, delighted, infatuated, lethargic, sanguine, sad? Or, afraid to savor the vicarious gratification watching someone fall into the moment (literally to fall into life), and to be buoyed by the power of life’s dance.
This past week, I’ve been nourished by Carrie Newcomer’s song, Take More Time, Cover Less Ground (the video link is below).
“Time to know what I seek has already been found
Time to listen for what never made a sound
Time to take more time and cover less ground”
So. Let’s begin here: “When you’re waiting, you’re not doing nothing. You’re doing the most important something there is. You’re allowing your soul to grow up. If you can’t be still and wait, you can’t become what God created you to be.” (Sue Monk Kidd, When the Heart Waits)
Amen. That’s so easy to miss or forget. To be here now, is self-care. And yes, soul-care.
An American traveler planned a long safari to Africa. He was a compulsive man, loaded down with maps, timetables, and agendas. Men from a local tribe had been engaged to carry the cumbersome load of supplies, luggage and “essential stuff.” (You know, as North Americans, we can’t go anywhere without taking “stuff” with us. And then we buy more stuff when we get there. Just sayin’.)
On the first morning, they all woke very early and traveled very fast and went very far. On the second morning, they all woke very early and traveled very fast and went very far. On the third morning, they all woke very early and traveled very fast and went very far. And the American seemed pleased. On the fourth morning, the tribesmen refused to move. They simply sat by a tree. The American became incensed. “This is a waste of valuable time. Can someone tell me what is going on here?”
The translator answered, “They are waiting for their souls to catch up with their bodies.”
We don’t need another assignment. Or test to pass. Sometimes, without even knowing it…
We need times and places to decompress.
We need times and places to live quietly.
We need times and places to let our soul catch up.
We need times and places just for fishing.
And this from Bruce Kramer’s We Know How This Ends (his writing about life with ALS). It stopped me many times. He writes, “Strength is only available through care, care for one’s self, and care for others. Even the healthiest among us need respite.”
The good news: Self-care always leads to caretaking. The light always spills.
Last week I spent a day in Alberta, Canada with the teachers and staff of Lloydminster Catholic School Division. Getting ready for their new school year, we talked about embracing soul care, and honoring the few things that matter.
I had a lot more to write today, but the clouds in our September sky are ethereal and tantalizing, and scrolling, more like gliding, through our sky. I put down my pen and retreated to the porch chair. Its cloud watching time. Sabbath Moment can wait.
Quote for our week…
There can be no other occupation like gardening in which, if you were to creep up behind someone at their work, you would find them smiling. Mirabel Osler
BULLETIN BOARD
Today’s Photo Credit: “Hi Terry, Starting my day with a Sabbath Moment is a spiritual discipline for me. And I thank you for it. I took this photo 10 days ago at an outdoor concert at Holliday Park in Indianapolis that features several Romanesque ruins. No, I wasn’t in Rome or Greece, although my imagination could take me there in this photo. Best,” Bev Gallagher (Carmel, IN)… Thank you Bev… Thank you to all, I love your photos… please keep sending them… send to terryhershey.com
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Letters that do my heart good…
–All the joy and the enthusiasm comes rolling back this morning reading your message. As if it wasn’t enough to know Terry Hershey, for at least a few years to have the opportunity to be in your presence, listen to you, and read you; during the same time I invited William Sloan Coffin to speak at the Wally White lectures in Alexandria, Louisiana at FUMC. After that, we became good friends and often corresponded or spoke by phone. I never got to see Sloan again in person though you and I were often brought together. Grace upon Grace and all upon God’s most generous Grace to be inspired and to learn from two of her significant voices! I think my God for every remembrance of you both! Larry
–Thanks so much for getting back to me. I read your book The Power of Pause many years ago. The other day I was needing something… like you say… What am I looking for? I was drawn to your book. It was just what I needed. I prefer reading the book and am also reading This is the Life on Kindle. I would like the audio book to give to my busy, busy daughter who is trying to please everyone… who enjoys audio books (because she doesn’t have time to read!) One of my favourite quotes and something that is making me think is, Lovingly accept the humanity entrusted to you. I am really loving this book. Thank you. Marge
–This is one of the very best Sabbath Moments ever! I am keeping this one next to my bed, on my desk and by my “God chair”. It speaks to my aching heart in words to tender to hold! Pam
–Terry, you are a gift to me and I know to so many. Thank you for sharing this beautiful story with us. You are a gifted writer and I’m grateful for you! God Bless you! Enjoy your garden and naps. Karen
POEMS AND PRAYERS
Sabbaths 1998, VII
There is a place you can go
where you are quiet,
a place of water and the light
on the water. Trees are there,
leaves, and the light
on leaves moved by air.
Birds, singing, move
among leaves, in leaf shadow.
After many years you have come
to no thought of these,
but they are themselves
your thoughts. There seems to be
little to say, less and less.
Here they are. Here you are.
Here as though gone.
None of us stays, but in the hush
where each leaf in the speech
of leaves is a sufficient syllable
the passing light finds out
surpassing freedom of its way.
From Given (Showemaker & Hoard, 2005)
© 2005 by Wendell Berry.
