Perspectives

How shifting how we think can change us and those around us

Things are heating up in our country…literally and metaphorically. I will not speak of the literal because, that is one for the scientist to explain. But I will speak of the metaphorical.

Since we are not ostriches, with our heads buried in the ground, we can easily and painfully see the dialogue heating up about politics and the future. We listen to opinions and observations by people who are both sides of the fence. It is one of the main reasons, I chose to give up social media and intentionally shifted here to Substack. But, something else has my attention today.

In the last 48 hours, we’ve spent time with several people who are in their 90’s. These dear folks all share that rare chronology of having lived very full and very long lives. We had the opportunity to listen to them over conversation and meal times. Though they shared a long chronology in life, their perspectives, outlook and philosophies were markedly different. So, is their theology. I’m sobered this morning in a sort of hang-over—not from drink but from how different perspectives define us; shape up and impact us. Having sat in deep conversation with these rare and precious souls, I’m just so struck with our their different outlooks on life impact their over all well being. So different. Such a study in contrasts. We’re all on some sort of spectrum in life with varying degrees of happiness, inner satisfaction and peace, joy and degrees of love and toxicity; brokeness also!

In my morning ritual, Gwen and I do a “Lectio Divina”—a reflective reading of Scripture together. We share this time over coffee in our “keeping room” looking out on the Blue Ridge Mountains. We like having a “keeping room”—mainly because we both sense a deep need to be “kept” each morning while having coffee and conversation. It’s a grounding time—drinking hot brewed coffee and sitting together in the quiet as the sun rises.

This morning was a little different. We watched a 200 hundred pound black bear walk into our yard; knock down our bird feeder; then feast on the seed for his breakfast. Quite the image isn’t it? Gwen took this picture just an hour ago, right outside our window.

Then, I walk up the stairs and settle in my glass porch/office and then read one poem a day. This morning, I read this poem, which spoke to loudly to me about all that I had soaked into my soul in the last 48 hours. Here it is. Take a moment to read this:

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There is a tree here so beautiful it even has a name. 
Every morning, when it is still dark, I stand under its branches. 
They flow from the thick and silent trunk. 
One can’t begin to imagine their weight. 
Year after year they reach, they send out smaller and smaller branches, and bunches of flat green leaves, to touch the light.
Of course this has consequences. 
Every year the oak tree fills with fruit. 
Just now, since it is September, the acorns are starting to fall.
I don’t know if I will ever write another poem. 
I don’t know if I am going to live for a long time yet, or even for a while.
But I am going to spend my life wisely. 
I’m going to be happy, and frivolous, and useful. 
Every morning, in the dark, I gather a few acorns and imagine, inside of them, the pale oak trees. 
In the spring, when I go away, I’ll take them with me, to my own country, which is a land of sun and restless ocean and moist woods. 
And I’ll dig down, I’ll hide each acorn in a cool place in the black earth,
to rise like a slow beautiful poem; to live along time.

“Fletcher Oak”
~Mary Oliver

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Mary highlights the choice she makes to “spend her life wisely.” How does she decide to do this?

• By choosing to be happy.

• Choosing to be frivolous.

• Choosing to be useful.

• Choosing to live “wisely.”

She’s describing an intentionality to her days—to our time—to how she thinks and doesn’t not think; how she chooses to do one thing; think one way as oppose to another.

We’ve all heard much about the value and importance of practicing gratefulness. It really does make a difference in changing us from being victims to transforming us to be collaborators in life—with God, our self and a few others. But Mary, is telling us something more than being grateful.

Mary says, her newly planted acorns will “live along time.” There’s an invitation here to ponder what she means.

Isn’t this all, any of us can do whether Democrats or Republicans, City dwellers or mountain folk; conservative or liberal? We all have time and a perspective which will shape our view of this world an others including how I live and how I choose to age (if I am fortunate enough to age at all).

What frivolous act can you do today? How can you choose to live with a bit more wisdom informing you about how to spend your day today?

What “good” trouble can you make that might cause someone to think wider and deeper—perhaps even higher like the mighty, old Oak that is now turning it’s leaves for yet another season of fall?

It’s not time that changes us, I think.

It is our choices we make through time. We don’t wake up one day and say, “I’m going to be a victim today. I’m going to think the world is against me and everyone in the world is against me.” No. That attitude was cultivated early in life by a myriad of days and choices—all accumulating to express one’s self in being angry or happy; or seeing the cup half full or half empty.

This morning, I raise the chalice of my life to Mary Oliver and to every, single Oak tree that I’m seeing change right before my eyes.

I wrote my own poem this morning to attempt to integrate how my “inner weather” was reporting in to my head—a practice I learned from the Augustinian Monk, Martian Laird, a few years ago on retreat. Here’s the poem to those who subscribe to the full experience of my work on Substack. Thank you especially to the “paid subscribers” who choose to support my attempt to write both prose and poems—the kind of poems, Mary Oliver and others mentor me to try my hand at. This one is called, “I Raise My Glass to Life Today.” This one is for everyone.

I Raise My Glass to Life Today!

Here’s to you Oak tree and Red Cardinal.

Here’s to you new baby boy and big black bear in my side yard today.

Here’s to you, O Great One who holds all possiblities and choices in your heart for us.

 I raise my glass to the Sacred One who spoke “Let” in Genesis and spoke it not once but eight times with resound and pregnant choice. “Let there be light” and seven more times on top of that. 

I marvel at the Creator who said “Let” and thought me into existence.

Today, I choose life and raise my glass to all who do the same!

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Gwen and I will be traveling internationally to visit our family for the next two weeks. So I’ll not be posting here till we return or unless I just need to tell you something!

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