The 60-Second Sabbath

Space and Meaning

Meaning is found in the structure of things.
Values are embodied in form.

Architects know this,
as do poets
and all those who arrange the environments
we immerse in every day--
    grocery stores and malls,
    offices and prisons,
    museums and schools,
    theme parks and churches,
    gardens and libraries.
Space says things like,
    "You are valued."
    "You are welcome here."
    "You are safe."
    "Stay."
    "Learn."
    "Open your eyes"
    "Wonder."
Or,
    "You are in danger."
    "You are a stranger."
    "Stagnate."
    "Run."
    "Acquiesce."

Different spaces create different moods,
    they make us more or less receptive,
    they teach us to like or dislike things, people, ideas,
    they change us in ways we don't notice.

Observe today how space, form, structure,
constantly affect you.
They do
though we mostly overlook it.

The structures of organizations and government
also communicate meaning and values
by the "space" they create
within which we expand or cower.
The ways they function,
    the rules they establish,
    the procedures they follow,
tell us:
    "You belong here...or you don't."
    "We value you...or we don't."
    "You are safe...or not."

And, as with physical space,
this often happens,
beneath or outside of our awareness.

You form your life as well,
    your home,
    your circle of influence.
What do you convey to others
    through how you structure your world?
What meaning?
What values?

Text and image © 2017 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit PhotosByDirk.com for fine-art photography.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.

New Growth

New ideas may threaten us.

The status quo,
even when uncomfortable,
    is at least known.
We've learned to cope;
by now,
    adjustments have taken root.

But then someone proposes something new.
We are asked to pull up
    our rooted adjustments
and let something unknown
    grow in their place.

What if what comes up
is covered in thorns and bitter berries?

New ideas may transform us.

If the new idea is a good one,
    a better one,
    a more-loving one,
does our discomfort really matter?

Text and image © 2017 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit PhotosByDirk.com for fine-art photography.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.

Crutch

"Your faith is a crutch,"
she said,
"a sign of weakness.
You don't want to take responsibility,
so when you run into problems,
you want God to take care of them.
You need to deal with them."

She gathered her things
and put on her sunglasses.

"Crutch," I said.

"What?"

"Your sunglasses--
they're a crutch.
The sun's a problem for you,
and instead of facing it head on,
you use your sunglasses to shield you:
a crutch."

"Don't be ridiculous."
She grasped the handrail to head up the stairs.

"Crutch," I said again.

She scowled.

"The railing--
it's a crutch.
You're using it to help you up the stairs
    instead of tackling them on your own:
crutch."

"I am simply steadying myself."

"A good and obvious use for a crutch.
We constantly rely on people and things to steady us.
They are our crutches,
and we are neither embarrassed about relying on them
    nor diminished when we do.
I am grateful that there have been times
when you have a been a gracious crutch for me,
and I bet you are grateful
when I have been a crutch for you.
We all need them from time to time."

"Oh, shut up," she said,
as she raised her arm to hail a taxi--
yet another crutch.

Text and image © 2017 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit PhotosByDirk.com for fine-art photography.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.

Soul Reason

Compassion
just may be
the
soul
reason
we walk this earth.

Text and image © 2017 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit PhotosByDirk.com for fine-art photography.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.

What She Writes

"I assemble the words,"
she said.
"Others find the meaning.

"Why does one person
    love the taste of oysters
and another find them
    disgusting?
It's not the oysters,
    it's you--
        your mouth,
        your taste.

"It's not the words I write,
    it's the one who reads them,
    it's you--
        your ears,
        your heart."

Text and image © 2017 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit PhotosByDirk.com for fine-art photography.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.

The Hike

He sits on the outcropping of rock,
    looks east over the plains--
farmland and lakes fade in haze
    toward the horizon.

He listens as the wind speaks
    through the stand of pines behind him,
names hiding in the rustling, hissing of air
    in branches and needles...

his own, for example,
    and those of his parents, long gone,
and of friends lost to distance and death,
    to the blur of time and neglect,

names that remind him of the passing of things,
    of the broad, deep reach of life,
and the unfathomable, mysterious meaning
    of his brief, quiet life.

Text and image © 2017 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit PhotosByDirk.com for fine-art photography.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.

The Many Versions of Me (and You)

There isn't just one version of Dirk,
    there are many.
There isn't just one version of (your name here),
    there are many.

There is the version we present
    to our friends.
There is the version we present
    to our families.
There is another we present
    to our co-workers.
And yet another we present
    to strangers.
We even have a version we present
    to God.

Do you like the version of yourself
that you present to friends?
    to family?
    to colleagues?
    to strangers?
    to God?

And wouldn't it be nice
if there were just one version
accessible to all,
a most authentic,
    original,
    true-to-self version?

What would that take?

I know people for whom this is the case,
people with such a healthy, balanced sense of self
that it is completely natural for them
to present a single, integrated, contented version,
pretty much anywhere and with anyone.

I'm not there yet,
but I'm working on it.

Text and image © 2017 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit PhotosByDirk.com for fine-art photography.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.

    

Sophia in Flip-Flops

"Sophia?
Wow, it's been, like, ages."
She was sitting on the patio
    when I returned from my walk.
Eyes closed,
    face to the morning sun,
she looked relaxed and content,
especially in the purple and white checkered sundress
    and matching purple flip-flops.
"I've never seen you so...casual."

She opened her eyes,
    shielding them with her hand.
"Yes," she said,
"even divinity needs an occasional break.
I just came from a week at the beach."

"Oh, really? Where?"

"Somewhere quite distant," she said.
She closed her eyes again, as if recalling,
then, after a pause, added,
"No place earthly;
you wouldn't know it."

"Ah, well, good to see you,
but why so long between visits?"
I settled into the other chair,
    between the herbs and the red geranium.

She opened her eyes again.
"You haven't left space for me.
Did you not realize that?"

"Say, what?"

"You've been busy, right?
Unless you open space for me--
    time-space,
    silence-space,
    heart-space--
I haven't room."

She watched me as I thought that over.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"I did not realize."
But I did now;
she was right.

"Yes," she said, chuckling,
"even in retirement..."

"Yes, even in retirement."

"But we're together now," she said,
"and I'm glad."

We sat for a while,
enjoying the freshness of the morning.
Two chickadees called from the tree above us:
    chickadee--dee--dee.
A young rabbit kept watch from the lawn.
A squirrel took up his post
    in an overhanging branch of the aspen.

"Peaceful here," she said,
"not quite the beach,
    but restful none-the-less."

"Peace that opens space."

"Silence, solitude, attention, yes--
all you encourage in others.
Don't forget you need it as well."

I closed my eyes,
    and I made space.
I emptied and opened;
I breathed and let go.
Into that space flowed calm,
    presence,
    joy.

When I finally opened my eyes,
Sophia was gone.

I notice scattered sand where her flip-flops
    had rested on the cement--
it was purple too.
"No place earthly,"
I murmured.

Text and image © 2017 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit PhotosByDirk.com for fine-art photography.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.

Fanning Flames

Albert Schweitzer said:

    Sometimes our light goes out,
    but is blown into flame again
    by an encounter with another human being.
    Each of us owes the deepest thanks
    to those who have rekindled this inner light.

If you are the one encountered--
the one who fans the flames--
those encounters
may seem random and insignificant;
you are, perhaps, just being you,
not intending to counsel or support,
but the impact can be
profound and redemptive.

If, on the other hand, you are the one
who benefits from the encounter,
pass along that inner light;
someone you meet today needs it
    as you needed it.

And if today you need such an encounter,
consider this blog to be
one of the ways God blows on your fading ember:

    Your inner light is needed.
    You are needed.
    What you bring to the world today
    is something you alone have to give.

The rest of us look to you
with hope and anticipation.

Text and image © 2017 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit PhotosByDirk.com for fine-art photography.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.