snapshots of spaciousness (sans camera)

"If you don’t plow the earth, it’s going to get so hard nothing grows in it. You just plow the earth of yourself. You just get moving. And even don’t ask exactly what’s going to happen. You allow yourself to move around, and then you will see the benefit." --Ms. Fatemeh Keshavarz

This season of Lent has called me deeper into the need of spaciousness and movement for myself. The theme of holy vessel continues to stir inside me and around me. I am always amazed at how God manifests when I allow myself to be still enough and listen closely. The last two days have been glorious mid-winter days filled with blue skies and crisp air. It has been a much needed respite from the long overcast Seattle days. Yesterday I literally felt hypnotically pulled to get outside and walk toward the Olympic mountains that are offered in full view about a mile from my home. I took my i phone and was able to catch a few shots of spring breaking and snow-capped brilliance in my time out. My walk was narrated by a podcast discussing the poet Rumi, so spiritual images accompanied the visual ones around me.

Today was a very different experience. Again, I strongly felt the desire to be outside and moving my body; this vessel I have been called to pay especial attention to this season. This time, however, I sensed that no outside apparatus should accompany me. No phone. No camera. No i-pod. Just me and my good strong walking shoes. While walking, however, I had an image of Kirsten Dunst in the movie, Elizabethtown, in the scene where she fashions her fingers to take a mental snapshot. It felt really important today to “record” snapshots in my mind even though I was certain they would be forgotten by the time I returned home. That, however, was not the case. Here are a few of the images that met me along my morning sojourn:

A tiny sign upon a fence that said, “Please do not feed Riley. Doctor’s orders.” The sun gleaming on the steeple of a church I had never before noticed. White fruit of the looms flattened in the street. Lavender bikini undies at another spot along the way. (Had someone lost their wash or had the world stripped off its clothes to dance naked in the moonlight?) A “no trespassing” sign attached to a church door. Blue sky. Glistening sun. Tiny chickadees playing in bare tree branches. Red, freshly painted doors. Children playing at the park. People happy to be out in the sunshine. God’s presence everywhere.

This morning I was reminded that it is good to listen. It is good to look at the world around me. It is good to be present. It is good to be a vessel. Where are you being called to empty yourself this season? Where are you being called to be filled? How would you describe your vessel?