A disciple asked the Holy One,
"Where shall I look for Enlightenment?"
"Here," the Holy One said.
"When will it happen?"
"It is happening right now," the Holy One said.
"Then why don't I experience it?"
"Because you do not look," the Holy One said.
"What should I look for?"
"Nothing," the Holy One said. "Just look."
"At what?"
"Anything your eyes alight upon, " the Holy One said.
"Must I look in a special kind of way?"
"No," the Holy One said. "The ordinary way will do."
"But don't I always look the ordinary way?"
"No," the Holy One said. "You don't."
"Why ever not?" the disciple demanded.
"Because to look you must be here," the Holy One said. "You're mostly somewhere else.”
found in The Rule of Benedict, Joan Chittister
It is hard to wait, especially if I’m full of doubt whether waiting is the right decision or not; or if I am troubled that the outcome may not be worth the wait; or if I suspect I’m waiting for something that might never happen anyway.
So what will I do with myself in the meantime?
A few years ago I wrote a piece for the Godspace blog about ‘travelling whilst sitting still’. That metaphor remains full of resonance for me. I take inspiration from the ancient Benedictine vow of conversatio morum, a commitment to ongoing ‘conversion of life’, whatever and wherever my circumstances. The phrase symbolises a determination in me to keep growing into my fullest self - the self whom God longs me to be - whilst remaining within the ‘enclosed’ space of chronic illness, physically limited by where I can look for the impetus to grow.
I hope, I try, to bring this quality of stillness, physical and metaphorical, to my photography. I aim to wait actively for the world around me to reveal itself, one detail at a time.
I wait actively for the world to show me the sacredness of the most ordinary things.
I wait actively for the revealing of God in whatever, or whoever, happens to be next to me.
Despite my hopes, I am appalling at this active waiting, I am systemically impatient, rarely alert, my attention wanders at the slightest nudge, and yet - yet - God’s Spirit still transfigures my offerings, weaving them into the fabric that bedecks God’s Kingdom.
God’s Kingdom coming.
God’s Kingdom here. Now.
I who can blink
to break the spell of daylight
and what a sliding screen between the worlds
is a blink
I who can hear the last three seconds in my head
but the present is beyond me
listen
in this tiny moment of reflexion
I want to work out what it’s like to descend
out of the dawn’s mind
and find a leaf and fasten the known to the unknown
with a liquid cufflink
and then unfasten
to be brief
to be almost actual
oh pristine example
of claiming a place on the earth
only to cancel
‘A rushed account of the dew’
Alice Oswald
looking in the ordinary way. Canon 7D. f1.8. 1/60. ISO 100.
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