A lot has been circling my mind/heart during June but no one central theme has emerged. Thus, I’m going to share a few thoughts I’ve jotted in my daily journal. Perhaps you will find some part of your life’s experience reflected within them.
A Perfect Nautilus
Upon seeing the eight-inch nautilus shell in perfect condition, no cracks or damaged edges, I marveled at the exquisite beauty. Only later, after reading “The Gift,” a Mary Oliver poem about finding a Neptune shell, did the real impact astonish me of how the nautilus came to shore: “I thought of its travels/in the Atlantic’s/wind-pounded bowl/and wondered/that it was still intact.” I never considered how those beauty-laden shells endure rough waters, jagged stones, lashing waves, before reaching their final destination on a sandy shore. I had not reflected on my life and that of others as being somewhat similar—the turbulent troubles, the jagged sorrows, the hurts that batter our inward being—how we, too, arrive each day amazingly intact on the shore of each sunrise.
Never Satisfied
One of my joys is sitting by the Des Moines river to observe the blue herons. I let my mind drift to their behaviors, imagining their minds conjuring up some of our human thoughts:
The blue heron has landed on the sand bar, folded his wide wings close to his thin body, stands silently observing his watery surroundings. A large pelican lifts, soars above the river, black-tipped feathers floating, a dreamy white cloud in flight. The heron with wings of breath-taking blue sighs, “I wish mine were pure and white.” A moment later, he gazes again with envy at the pelican and groans, “I need to put on some weight.”
Paying Attention
I continually relearn how little it takes to draw forth my joy if I will remember to be alert to the simplest, easily missed pieces of the day. I call these “contemplative pauses” on my daily walks. This is when I stop to take in the scene near me with my physical senses.
One soft-plumaged thrush on the woods’ grassy floor, carefully selecting each dry blade of grass to create her nest, and one wild, female turkey moving with stealthy gracefulness behind the focused thrush—this is all I need for the day to carry a golden glow in my spirit.
Feast of the Visitation – Seeds of Transformation
Mary, the young woman and Elizabeth, the older one. Both bear seeds of life capable of transforming those with open hearts and minds. I find both women reflected within me: a young spirit and an aging body. I, too, bear the seeds of transformation. Let it be done to me.
Abundant peace,
Joyce Rupp
