Enough rain fell on our drought-stricken land in early spring to relieve a bit of the parched soil. Where I walk in the woods water actually stood in small pools, something I’d not seen in a long time. One cloudy afternoon I turned a bend on the path and noticed one of those mudpuddles ahead of me. The sun had briefly peeked out from the gray sky and a slant of light landed on the water. I started to walk around the puddle but my eyes drew me to a halt. The most glorious reflection of the still-barren, gray branches sat on the surface of the water, causing it to look like a Monet painting in the Louvre. I stood there before that small, elongated puddle and marveled for quite awhile at what I beheld.
Standing by the clear puddle of rainwater led me to all sorts of ruminating. I’d recently come across a quote of Lao Tzu, the revered Chinese philosopher who asked: “Do you have the patience to wait till your mudpuddle settles and the water clears?” Of course, Lao Tzu was referring to the human spirit and what muddies our internal waters. Definitely more challenging to settle that cloudiness.
In the coming days my mind kept returning to the mudpuddle, how the clarity of the water enabled the beauty of the woods to be reflected back to me. I marveled of how this happened and longed for that kind of capability in myself. A few days later the wisdom of Naomi Shibah Nye in her introduction to Voices in the Air assured me of how to achieve this clearness: “Take a break from multi-tasking. Although many of us are no longer sitting on rocks in deserts watching camels, sheep, and goats heading out to pasture, we could sit. In a porch swing? On the front steps? In a library or coffee shop? On a park bench? Quiet inspiration may be as necessary as food, water, and shelter. Try giving yourself regular times a day for reading and thinking—even if just for a minute or two. …A different calm begins feeling like the true atmosphere behind everything else.” (And with it, the “mud” settles.)
Ah, yes, multitasking, trying to get a lot of things done and using as much of the time allotted as possible. Who takes time to pause, to sit, to just “be” for awhile? I realized I was once again as caught in this push to get things done as the rest of my digital-device-driven society. But then there was the puddle in the woods. Doing nothing except being a small pool of water. Just having the sun shine on it and mirroring back the beauty of nature.
The reflection of the “painting” wasn’t the water in the transparent puddle but the water’s ability to replicate and reveal the beauty beyond it. The pool of water was the instrument, the carrier, the mirror. Could I do the same with the good qualities of those I encounter, to reflect back their kindness and caring deeds? Could I be more attentive and patient in being a mirror of love for others?
When someone receives a compliment or affirmation, the Sufi tradition encourages the reply: “I am but a reflection of thyself.” Oh, to be a clear pool of water doing that. I have quite a ways to go with this transforming process, especially since reading the inspiring lines of Psalm 19 as Stephen Mitchell translates them: “Let me keep surrendering my self, until I am utterly transparent.” No doubt about it, this change is going to take quite a while.
Abundant peace,
Joyce Rupp
(You can find a photo of the mudpuddle on my Instagram page. @joyceruppauthor)
