a perfect day

Out of fog Bay Bridge and Golden Gate Bridge a...

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It is the 10th year in this decade, the 10th month and the 10th day of the month.  I believe it is another perfectly serendipitous day on our hands. 10-10-10.

I stepped outside early this morning and saw the Big Dipper in the southern sky. It and all its star buddies were so beautiful. Then I sat in my prayer room and before me was a vase of freshly cut flowers. They reminded me of my time in Sharpsburg, which is now sacred time. Reminiscent of my sacred time in San Francisco in 2007 for the VONA Writer’s Conference.

It was there at VONA that I for the first time said out loud in earshot of other people: I am a poet—I am a writer.

I was afraid then, and years later I know why. It meant at some point in my life, every day life, I would write. That’s what writer’s do—they write. They observe and report. They pay attention and record what they see, hear, taste, touch, smell. It is quite simple and quite lovely.

Each flower was a delightful mix of shades of white with red-burgundy-green elongated streaks painted on the leaves and white stamens that glistened with sap expressed from within the flower’s petals. The circle of these flowers’ life is completing. If it were still rooted, it would continue that life circle forever. However, since it’s been cut off from the source, no matter how beautiful, it will eventually die and be thrown away.

And so it is with all nature. We are at our best when we remain connected to the source of life: Jesus Christ. When we cut off ourselves from him, we inevitably will die, regardless how beautiful we are. Writing is my spiritual connection with the source. It is He that gave me this gift and ability and it is He to whom I will dedicate the work.

There will be times when the work gets heavy and burdensome. There will be times when the work is light and airy. There will be times when the work is dark and shrouded in mystery, and there will be times when the work is as obvious as daylight. But He has called me to the work and to the work I will go.

I read today the introduction of “Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life” by one of my literary sheroes–author Anne Lamott that illuminates the writing practice of her family and how she grew up in a literary world. She talks of being thrust into this world in a way because no matter how high and lofty the idea of writing became, her father was the one who pulled her back down to earth with the notion that writing is submitting to the work, paying attention to describing and becoming observant of the world bird by bird.

So what does all this have to do with the perfect day? Nothing really. It was an ordinary day filled with praise and worship (because 10-10-10 is a Sunday), a visit with mother who grows more frail and weaker every day, renting the movie Ironman 2 to watch in lieu of the football games that transcend and dominate the airwaves throughout the weekend.

But that is another subject for another blog. I digress because I want to stay focused on my subject which is. . .

. . .oh yeah, 10-10-10, a perfect day to pay attention.

One Response to “a perfect day”

  1. Love this reminder to pay attention! Thank you for sharing this Dear Sister.

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