journey

This morning, I thought I might try something a bit different with my post. A few minutes ago, I came across a photo that reminded me of an unexpected treasure I found as I traveled across the state of Wisconsin many years ago.

A sunny dirt road just before sunset at Necedah National Wildlife Refuge.

My first thought–journey.

I know that word has taken on a bit of an overused touchy-feely spiritual feel (at least according to my daughter who has a special voice and eye roll when she says it), but in this season of Lent, it seems aptly appropriate.

Rather than filling you with words of what journey means to me, I thought I’d select some photos I’ve taken and offer them to you. One may speak to you more than another, or none may at all. My hope is that you will take a moment and reflect on what journey means to you in this season of your own spiritual life. What images do you connect with that symbolize that path? An old quiet bridge? A peaceful mountain trail? A much needed solitary bench?

Take a minute and meditate on the details of your image. How do they symbolize your relationship with the Creator? With the earth? With your dreams? With your challenges?

Finally, sit with this image for a few days. You might print one out or create your own. You may choose to journal about it. Either way, find connection that takes you deeper into your own journey and what it means to your soul.

Spring poetry and prayer

Lord, the air smells good today,
straight from the mysteries
within
the garden
of God.
The trees in their prayer,
the birds in praise,
the first blue violets,
kneeling.
~Rumi

violet

 

May all I say and all I think
be in harmony with thee,
God within me,
God beyond me,
maker of the trees.

  ~Chinook prayer, Pacific Northwest Coast

dogwood

Spring—through

morning mist

what mountain’s there?

  ~Basho, Japan

mountains and clouds

the crow

This morning as the wind whisked powdered sugar snow around my office window, I spied a black crow roosting on the roof next door.  Rather than bragging at the top of its lungs, it seemed to be whimpering a low cry.

I sat and watched that ol’ crow for a minute.  I will admit, crows aggravate me sometimes because they are so loud and brash–their screeches piercing the silence unnerves me.  I’m not patient with them or tolerant of them when they harass other animals in my yard.  I might even have been known to take my biggest spatula and bang it on a metal cookie sheet to scare them away.

This morning, however, I sat in my chair and watched that crow–its silhouette so definitive against the dusty blue sky.  I witnessed another side to that creature–a place of vulnerability and humility atypical of its nature.

In that moment, I was reminded that each of us carries a vulnerable place in our soul–perhaps those that are the loudest or most brash are the ones who most fear exposing this tender side.

crow vintage

crow sepia

crow negative