The Hospitality of My Attention

[this post relates to the meditations this week at]

Sister’s sermon on the Gerasene demoniac yesterday ended with this admonition: Let us live in the garden and not in the graveyard!

Of course we live in a garden literally. At this moment rays of early sunshine beam through trees and mist, pouring a glistening, almost liquid gold onto the deep green leaves of solstice summer. The hens, now quiet after their morning fuss, forage for grubs and insects. Woodland birds offer nonstop music. And plants unfurl and offer more produce than we can eat and sell and preserve and give away.

You can watch plants grow. That is, if you choose to sit. I know this because I check the snapdragons, sunflowers, dahlias, and zinnias inching skyward hour by hour in the cutting garden as I hurry by on this or that errand. We’re eating fresh sweet peas that pop with sweetness in your mouth, snap-peas with the unlikely richness of butter, strawberries, cauliflower, kale and collards and all kinds a green leafy vegetables with names I don’t know but with magenta, gold ocher, crimson stalks and pungent flavors. The sisters watch over the rows of vegetables like the Holy counting the sparrows.

When you do sit, that which is concealed shouts in miraculous silence, disclosing secrets through a drama of scents and sounds and tastes: revelations pour forth from earth’s incense rising in mist, the Word whispers on the wind. We eat Light Incarnate and drink the lifeblood of the energies of Love.
Do I listen, eat, drink, form my bodily postures and the attentions of my spirit toward reverence? To all this beauty I say, first let me just do … [inserting here whatever it is I think is so important]. And the cabbage leaves widen in wonder at my obtuseness and they whisper, “Let the dead bury the dead.”

One Response to “The Hospitality of My Attention”

  1. Su Says:

    Great invitation to sit and notice! Thanks for the reminder.

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