Have You Noticed?

Recently I have been drawn to Psalm 65 which begins with "To You, stillness, praise, in Zion, O Elohim; And to You a vow is paid.  To You who hears all prayer, all flesh comes."  I kept thinking of this Scripture during the time I spent at Lake Bonny park on Sunday (I stayed there for at least 45 mintes), and during my reading of Mary Oliver's poems.  I loved the lines from Messenger,

"...Let me keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work
which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture."

Something about reading this passage outside in the grass was moving.  I thought about how God describes Himself as a shepherd, and we His sheep -- and creation, I suppose, is His pasture.  I like the concept of "learning to be astonished".  As Professor Corrigan said in class, it seems as though we're taught not to be astonished.  It's uncool in our culture to be impressed, and it's also a sign of vulnerability.  The act of conciously trying to be awed seems strange and awkward at first I suppose, but I feel it is very beneficial.    
  I had trouble with the lines,

"...a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever."

I didn't quite understand it, but it makes me think of Psalm 65 again.  "To You who hears all prayer, all flesh comes."  I've been thinking a lot about animal suffering lately, although I'm not sure why.  We read in the Bible that God knows and cares when sparrows fall, and He provides for the "young lion".  I also loved reading the section in Musical Notation about Oliver's dog deliberately watching the sunset, and coming home afterwards.  It made me laugh, but also made me think. Are animals aware of God's presence?  I've read theology books that completely dismiss this idea, but I don't know if we should do that so easily and flippantly.

"Are my boots old?  Is my coat torn?
...let me keep my mind on what matters..."

These words were very powerful to me.  This happens to me, too, sometimes.  A gradual transformation from shallow, earthly thoughts to much deeper ones.  I don't think it's necessarily that one is simply distracted from their imperfections because they are out in nature (although that could be part of it), rather I think that being close to creation brings us out of our day-to-day, detailed, harried schedules and reminds us of the world that is to come. 

I enjoyed reading the poem entitled Praying.  It reminded me of the essence of good literature, and helped me not to be so nervous about writing poetry myself. 

The Uses of Sorrow was also quite interesting.  I find it fascinating that Oliver dreamed this poem!  I thought of it today on my way home from school, and it made me think of the concept of hope and suffering that we studied in class. 

In the Six Recognitions of the Lord, many portions of the text stood out to me, but perhaps one of the most astounding one was this:

"...but in summer there is
everywhere the luminous sprawl of gifts,
the hospitality of my Lord and my
inadequate answers as I row my beautiful, temporary body
through this water-lily world."

Beautiful, temporary body.  This author sees herself -- not only in spirit -- but in flesh, as a part of God's beautiful creation.  That lifted my spirits a little, and I think it's a mindset we should have.  I also liked the idea of the hospitality of God, and our inadequate answers.  The thought stands beautifully alone. 
 
I look foward to learning Professor Corrigan's full meaning of the tension of loving both God and the Earth.  Does he mean nature?  Or does he mean all of our temporary experiences here?  I agree that there is a constant tension between appreciating our life here, and wanting to be with God forever.  Perhaps this is what he refers to, and I didn't understand. 

I visited Lake Bonny Park again today with my friend, who showed me a trail and a dock that I somehow missed on Sunday.  We encountered two large birds, one that we identified at Circle B, and another that was beautiful, but I don't know what it was.  We decided to go there on a more regular basis and bring homework.  I'm glad we've engaged with literature and nature in this way in class, and I think it's opened my eyes a little bit more. 


Here is nature poem I wrote on Sunday:

 

                                                                  E          E       P        P

                                                              E         E              P            A

  R        R                         A          L

  T        T                                L       M

      T                  I                      M

Had

To

Write

A

Nature poem

Today

With

Twenty

Lines

So

Here

Are

The

Words

I

Came

Up

With:

I like trees.

(I'm totally kidding.)

To You, Stillness, Praise

I thought it would be hard

To be still this afternoon.

I had just drank a latte,

And I was convinced

That the theobromine

Would keep me jittery

And anxious.

I lay down, and looked

Into the sky.

I saw a group of five or more birds

Flying south-east.

My heart filled with the painful, joyful longing

That I so often experience

At times when I don’t expect to. 

I was still.

I wasn’t still.

I found it a little bit easier

To pay attention

To the sound of the wind

And the birds

And the children playing

And to the ants

Crawling on my laptop. 

I noticed tiny hairs on

The edge of each blade of grass.

I wanted to touch it.

No.  I have to be still.

I lay with my eyes open,

Not worrying about tomorrow

Which I usually do today.

I lay next to the angel’s feet.

Or maybe they were sitting.

I sat up, and looked at my almost-empty

Plastic cup.

I stroked the grass like I had wanted to,

Even though I wasn’t being still.

I looked up, and saw a huge bird

Calling to another one,

And when I heard the distant answer,

It affected me. 

The bird turned to preen its feathers

And looked in my direction.
I felt uncomfortable

As I often do

When animals look me

Straight in the eye.

I saw my own shadow

Cast in the grass:

My straightened hair blowing

In the breeze.

My hair really isn’t straight at all,

But I wanted

To look trendy and cool this afternoon.

Now, I don’t really care all that much.

Pianists are supposed to pride themselves

On their ability to notice

And express subtle nuances. 

Beethoven liked trees better than people, so he said.

And while I can’t say the same,

I really do like them.

Haydn was inspired by nature

To write the only lyrics from an oratorio

That have ever made me cry.

“In leafy arches twine the shady groves,

O’er lofty hills

Majestic forests wave,

Majestic

Forests

Wave.” 

I thought I was strange and ungrateful

To feel bored and locked-up

In a sound-proof room

With strange carpet

And a shiny baby grand.

But then I saw others

Open the blinds,

Stare out of the window,

At the trees and flowers,

And sit there not practicing

For quite a while.

Pay attention

To the wind,

And the quivering grass

And the notes

And the furry little dog.

I thought it would be hard

To stay still this afternoon,

But the theobromine

Has not had the affect

I was afraid of.

I’m content to sit here

With this shriveled yellow flower,

And even with the ants

Who haven’t bothered me

Much.

I’m content not to worry about what to say

Or how much time I’ve spent.

Content with the sparkling trees behind me

And my un-cool chipping nail polish.

I’m happy

Just to be

Right here.