The 60-Second Sabbath

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Miko and the Piano

I play Christmas carols late in January:
    Oh, Holy Night,
        Carol of the Bells,
            The Huron Carol,
                more,
old arrangements
    stretching back to childhood--

    nostalgia--

on a piano we are about to donate
    as we downsize,
        getting realistic about our future--

    double nostalgia.

And when I'm finished,
    there behind me, watching, listening,
        our gold-eyed boy, Miko--
            fascinated, it seems.

Has he been here the whole time?
    What does he hear?
        What does he wonder?

I am flattered, honored
    to have such an audience of one.

Text and image © 2023 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.

 

Downsizing

The key to downsizing
    is convincing friends and family
that they need the stuff
    that you know they don't,
hoping they won't realize it
    until it's too late,
and it's now their stuff to deal with.

And if you are reading this
    and have taken some of our stuff,
well, of course, I am not referring to you,
    just those other people.

Text and image © 2023 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.

John

Jesus gives one command
    in the gospel of John:

        Love.

Jesus gives one command
    in this gospel of the beloved disciple:

        Love.

Jesus gives one command
    in this gospel of the mystics:

        Love.

Jesus gives one command:

        Love.

In and through and by this,
    life is to be lived,
        decisions to be made,
            breaths taken, released,
                death embraced:

        Love.

Just this.

Text and image © 2023 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.

 

The Whales' Redemption

This was not the day
    I'd planned or expected.

        How so?

I had in mind the usual--
    a little float on the surface,
        warming in the sun;
    breeching with my buddies,
        seeing who could make the biggest splash;
    a few deep dives,
        straining for krill through the ol' baleen.

        Sounds like the perfect day.

Yes, until, on one of my deepest dives,
    I rose to a world suddenly, inexplicably changed:
descending--
    watery sunlight sparkled above me;
ascending--
    I rose into grayness and chaos.
Instead of the rays of the sun,
    flashes of lightning;
instead of gentle swells;
    thunderous waves;
instead of blue skies,
    sheeting rain.
All, it seemed, in an instant,
    in the blink of an eye.

        How bizarre.

Oh, it gets stranger.

        Say more.

I saw, above me,
    the  underside of a ship,
a ship in trouble,
    the keel creaking,
the deck dipping below water.
    I could hear the shouts of men--
frightened men.

And then, one man overboard,
    plunging into the sea
in front of my nose.

Involuntarily, I gasped,
    and you will not believe what happened next.

        Yes?

My gasp sucked him in!

        What, now?

Yes! I swallowed him--
    into the mouth,
down the throat,
   into the stomach!

I felt him struggle,
    arms and legs thrashing against my insides.
Just when I thought I might up-swallow,
    he grew still.

He's dead, I thought.

        So whales eat people? Just curious.

No! Okay, rarely.
    I never have.
And I didn't eat him, did I?
    I just swallowed him whole.

        Ah, right.

Still not the strangest part of my tale,
    because, within a minute of my man-gulping,
out came the sun,
    down calmed the sea,
away sailed the boat.

I hung suspended near the surface,
    not sure what to do.
I felt sorry for the man,
    certain my digestive juices were turning him to mush,
when I heard, faintly and from within...
    singing.
The man was alive, inside of me,
    and singing.

        Singing?

Singing.
    Singing prayers.
I don't know a lot of man-words,
    but I understood "God"
and "help"
    and "sorry"
and "please."

This went on for quite a while,
    and the more he sang,
the more peaceful I felt.

I thought things through:
    If he's to survive this ordeal,
it will be in his interest
    for me to head toward man-country,
toward shore.
    So I did.

He sang on.
    The song moved me.
I cried as we approached the shallows.
    I puked.

        Oh, my.

Sorry--that was a bit abrupt,
    but it happened that abruptly.
I simply spit him up.

I watched him crawl his way to the sand.
    He rolled over, sat up and looked toward me.
He waved.

        Man waving to whale. I like that.

Me too.
    I believe it was a thank-you sort of wave.

        A remarkable story, to be sure.

One more remarkable addition:
    His song is still with me.
I can hear it even now,
    and I've learned to sing it myself--
"God...help...sorry...please"--
    and it brings me joy.

        I did not realize whales sang.

We didn't prior to this,
    but we do to this day.

Text and image © 2023 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.

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New-Year Resolutions (on the 10th Day of Christmas)

Number 1: Eat More Fruits and Vegetables

    They say I should have 5 servings a day.

    That's a lot to eat.
        I really don't eat that much.

    If I have 5 servings,
        I won't have room for things like chocolate and French fries.

    I'm going to skip this one.

Number 2: Eat More Froot Loops.

    This one I can do;
        I resolve to eat one box in 2024.

    Tim won't let me buy these,
        so please send.

Number 3: Watch More Lords a'Leaping.

     On the 10th Day of Christmas
        my true love gave to me,
    10 lords a'leaping...

    2023 definitely did not include enough leaping lords.
        I'll see what can be done about this.

    I do wonder, though, why these 10 lords are all leaping.
        Are they running hurdles?
    Is it choreographed, like in the ballet,
        or spontaneous? Are they randomly bounding for joy?
    How fun!

    Or are they, like some long-legged cranes competing for mates,
        trying to impress the 9 ladies dancing, from yesterday?

    And in that case, what happens to that last, leftover lord?
        Whose job is it to offer him solace?

    Perhaps they're all leaping to escape 10 mice e'merging--
        or spiders or roaches...

    Whatever--
        just more leapin' lords in 24!

Number 4: ???

    Can't think of anything else.

Happy New Year!

Text and image © 2023 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.

New Year's Day (and the 8th Day of Christmas)

Happy? Christmas happy?
    You know, holly-jolly happy,
        joy-to-the-world happy,
            most-wonderful-time-of-the-year happy?

Would you know it if you weren't?
    Has the pressure to be merry and bright
        blinded you to your own sadness?

How would you know if this were happening?
    What comes up for you
        if you sit alone in silence for 20 minutes?

That might tell you.

And it is okay if, in that splendid silence,
    you discover a pool of sadness
        you'd covered with wrapping paper and gift tags.

We all do this.

The wonder of Christmas is that it is not,
    in fact, all gladness and light.
        There are those left behind,
            those isolated and lonely,
                those seeking, but not finding, refuge.

The essence of Christmas,
    as found in the gospel stories,
        is loaded with as much darkness as light,

and ends--did you know this?--
    with the Holy Family in exile,
        refugees in a foreign country.

Refugees, fleeing death at home.

Hmm...sounds pretty relevant.

So the cozy manger scene
    yields to a last-minute, late-night escape
        through desert and darkness.

How much can you pack
    on one beleaguered donkey
        already burdened with a mom and a newborn?

So be as merry and cozy as you want;
    Christmas comes with light, hope, wonder--all for you--
        as you are ready.

And be as sad and exiled as you need to be;
    Christmas comes with darkness, fear, loneliness--all for you--
        as you are ready.

There's room for you in both stable (warm and welcoming)
    and wilderness (cold and foreboding).

God waits in both.

Text and image © 2023 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.

Have you ordered your copy of Contemplative Vision: Photography as a Spiritual Practice? 
Follow this link: https://www.churchpublishing.org/contemplativevision

At Year's End (for the 7th Day of Christmas)

You were a pious SOB,
    then God smacked you a good one
        and turned you into a poet.

You were a self-righteous "man of God,"
    then God lifted you from that gutter
        and changed you into a mystic.

You were obnoxious, "spiritual" ego,
    then God fed you into the holy woodchipper,
        and out you emerged, humble and authentic.

Oh, who am I kidding;
    this poem is about me,
        or, at least, I pray it  will be.

Text and image © 2023 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.