Senses
I have been reading more poetry since the #tinywinterpoem challenge. I have found myself spending many of my quiet times with the South African poet Elaine Rumboll. Today I read her poem for Holy Saturday, the day between the more well-known Good Friday and Easter Sunday, which she called The Day Between The Breaths. I liked it. Saturday, the day when the world waited, even if it didn’t know that it was waiting, even if it still doesn’t realise. I am pulled to this idea of waiting. We are busy people in a busy world and I think that waiting is something that we don’t always like to do, and I’m not sure whether that’s because we really don’t like it or whether it’s because we have inherited a feeling that perhaps waiting is wrong, is lazy, is lack of direction. I am learning to think differently.
I set an intention this year to explore and find balance, and I have enjoyed walking out some of the ways in which balance presents itself to me. The poetry challenge was one of the ways that appealed to me. Another way, though, has been to reflect on how quickly I walk. How often do I stop? How often do I pause and just spend some time in the moment, soaking in exactly where I am without feeling a need to move or step? Another challenge I have set myself is to remember to take small moments and pay attention to the stillness, noticing the softened things that would otherwise miss my noticing, remembering that God dwells everywhere, even in the ordinary, small quietnesses that are ripe with warm grounding.
What if I took the time to pay attention to what is touching my skin? The silkiness of my dog’s ears and the smoothness of her head… the warmth of the sun on my bare arms… the tickle of my hair on my face as the breeze ruffles past me… the soft firmness of the cushion under my upper arm… the pins and needles in my feet tucked under my thighs… the light pressure of my laptop keys on my finger pads as I type…
What if I took the time to pay attention to the scents around me? The cut grass as my husband strims… the shampoo that lingers in my hair… the coffee in the mug by my side… the flowers that my neighbour picked for me…
What if I took the time to pay attention to the tastes that I love? Today I could enjoy a square of chocolate, a segment of orange… I could eat a Bakewell Tart and see if I can distinguish the butter, the almond essence, the raspberry jam… I could sip Aardbeg on ice and pay attention to the burn as it slips downwards and the peat that tastes like our holidays in Gairloch…
What if I took the time to pay attention to what I can hear? The birds in the breeze… the growl of the cars that occasionally pass below me… the buzz of the boats on the sea ahead… my breath as I sigh… the creak of the wooden deck where I am sitting… the slide of my feet as I release them…
What if I took the time to pay attention to what I am seeing? To see what is really there? The shadows stretching past my chair… the leaves dancing in the trees… the drips of wax from the cold candle that mask the glass of the bottle… the weave of the wicker… the sun glinting on the fine hairs of my forearms…
What if I took the time to enjoy the memories that my senses could evoke? What are the people and places that follow my thoughts as they wander?
I have heard recently that balance is less about making sure that you have an equal representation of everything that matters to you; this is something that potentially just adds more pressure. Rather, balance is more about seeing the bigger picture. Waiting, taking time, practising awareness, all of these feel like finding something bigger, or perhaps someone. Re-steadied, re-connected, with a clearer path ahead that will wait for me for as long as I need.
As I pay attention, God is already here.
I wonder if anyone else sees owls in the passion fruit flowers…?