to be astonished

 

I find that during these crazy times, which seem to get crazier each day even if dotted with glimmers of hope and calm, I crave silence and simplicity. Perhaps it is in order to deal with less or perhaps it is to deal with more, albeit differently.

I am reminded of Mary Oliver’s prescription: Instructions for living a life. Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.

What would it be like, feel like, to live each day with this mantra. I believe that it is a reiteration of something like Ignatian exercises to the extent she calls us to a form of the examen. And so at the end of, or even upon waking and during, each day we might check in with ourselves. Are we being attentive, intentional? What has astonished us this day, called us up short? 

Here I am to “tell about it”. 

As I drove to do some errands, I was lulled by the morning light; the beauty and golden hue this time of year on the mountains and in the fields was so glorious, I almost drove off the road. By a wooded area having shed most all its leaves which now lay in a carpet of brown crunch I pulled over to gaze at the way it was lit, literally enlightened, by a brilliant dispersion of something red. Little burning bushes everywhere!

I thought to myself what abundance of holy beauty, not just for Moses but for all who are astonished and astounded!

I made a gesture with my feet as if to take off my shoes; it was all I could think to do to honor and mark this moment! Sacramental gesture. I think I will take my shoes off more often, certainly whenever I come across glowing, summoning shrubs.