Nature, Poetry, and Spiritual Practice.

"I went to Lake Bonny Park for this field trip, and I stayed there for at least 45 minutes."

Focus narrowed on the baseball green 

Yet life silently abounds

As silent spectators to the world around

Pines, firs, oaks, palms

Flowing with the winds of life:

Standing firm in foundation

Without submitting to pride

Allowing the blue canvas to

Contrast their greens

Their buds, their bark, their build

Allowing the star of light and warmth to

Highlight their beauty unashamed

Both receiving and producing life

Allowing the appearance of seasons to

Change the outward view

Yet holding true to embrace

Dormancy, blossom, strength, purging

Still playing with the star

Not interfering yet not fully giving in

Accepting yet standing ground

Leaving unique shadowed impressions

Open to change

Breathing life

Understanding death

- - -


Visiting Lake Bonny Park lead me to a spiritual application of trees; it helped me to understand how Mary Oliver produces beautiful poetry that offers spiritual insight. It makes sense--God created this world. It should put us in awe. I find myself in wonder of God's creativity, biological order, palate of colors, diversity of texture, distribution of molecules . . . 

In trees I think of the unobservable . . . their roots. They are the foundation. What is the basis of my foundation? What feeds me to sustain me and keep me grounded? I think of growth. The oldest, largest oaks start as one small seed. Am I growing? Am I drinking pure water? What hinders my growth? I think of the trunk; it isn't always the prettiest part, but each species is unique and has its own beauty. Is my core strong? Am I not focused on how it looks outwardly? Am I healthy inside? I think of branches. Am I reaching out? I think of buds or blossoms. Am I allowing God to use me to plant seeds in others? I think of leaves. Am I expressing the quality of life I've been given through Christ? I think of the concentric rings of circles inside the trunk that represents its years. Do I have marks to show for the time I've lived?

I like what Professor Corrigan said in the essay: "One cannot truly love and be present to God without being led back to loving the world." If we don't love and care for the creation we've been given and entrusted with, we are missing a huge aspect of God. In Walking Home from Oak-Head, Mary Oliver writes about snow, how it reveals "the love meaninglessness of time." God's given us the ability to get lost in His creation. I could watch soft snowflakes fall for quite some time without becoming bored or unsettled. There's something captivating, enthralling about individual pieces of white falling, flowing, down from the sky. The ocean has a similar effect on me. It's like the threshold she talks about in Six Recognitions of the Lord; the bounce between reality and "not" reality. Time is useless during these moments. Embracing these moments is the perfect place for prayer, meditation, encounters with the Lord. I love how Oliver describes this spiritual "dialogue": "It is mystery. It is love of God. It is obedience." If loving the world is our work (as set forth in Messenger), this includes not only its inhabitants but also the Earth itself. It requires"[keeping our minds] on what matters." It takes focus and intention. The moments in which we can find God's power in the beauty, intricateness, diversity of creation remind us of our purpose and Who we serve. "Our God is an awesome God . . ."