From time to time I write about being in the NOW; it’s one of the ways that helps me be conscious of silence and solitude. I’m pretty HDHD, although such a diagnosis was not “invented” when I was in school (very grateful for that), so I need all these little helps to keep my mind and body quiet and attentive.
Esther de Wall, in an article in Weavings (July/August 2002), gives a marvelous suggestion of how to stay attentive to the moment:
i carry with me a magnifying glass—nothing elaborate—one that I can put in a pocket or carry on a string around my neck. Then, whenever I can, I walk slowly and stop and look at whatever it may be, and I find a whole other world—in a leaf, in a small stone, in a twig. But it need not be outside. In my kitchen I enjoy the texture of an orange or the grains of a bowl of sugar.
What a marvelous time I had with my magnifying glass on my walk yesterday. In rereading her article on my return home, she told me more:
This is the practice of seeing with detachment—seeing without wanting to own or to possess. It is seeing with total attentiveness, with delight, with wonder, with love, and with reverence. Such a mode of seeing brings with it gratitude for the amazing ingenuity and generosity of a creator God—a God who gives us a world that is rich and filled with wonder.
I can’t wait to go out today. Or, I can stay in the kitchen.
Esther de Wall, in an article in Weavings (July/August 2002), gives a marvelous suggestion of how to stay attentive to the moment:
i carry with me a magnifying glass—nothing elaborate—one that I can put in a pocket or carry on a string around my neck. Then, whenever I can, I walk slowly and stop and look at whatever it may be, and I find a whole other world—in a leaf, in a small stone, in a twig. But it need not be outside. In my kitchen I enjoy the texture of an orange or the grains of a bowl of sugar.
What a marvelous time I had with my magnifying glass on my walk yesterday. In rereading her article on my return home, she told me more:
This is the practice of seeing with detachment—seeing without wanting to own or to possess. It is seeing with total attentiveness, with delight, with wonder, with love, and with reverence. Such a mode of seeing brings with it gratitude for the amazing ingenuity and generosity of a creator God—a God who gives us a world that is rich and filled with wonder.
I can’t wait to go out today. Or, I can stay in the kitchen.
