The 60-Second Sabbath

Saints Prayer

Mary, nurturer,
    cradle my fragile soul.

Joseph, carpenter,
    build for me a refuge
        from the world's anger.

Lydia, dyer of linen,
    make for me a garment
        of innocence, of purity.

Peter, fisherman,
    feed me from
        the limitless sea of God's compassion.

 Zacchaeus, tax collector,
    take what I owe--
        my heart, my life.

Jesus, washer of feet,
    cleanse me,
        leave me empty, receptive.

John, beloved,
    let me lean with you
        on the breast of Christ.

Amen.

Text and image © 2018 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit PhotosByDirk.com for fine-art photography.
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Contemplative Intention

Try approaching your day
    with contemplative intention;
commit to interior stillness,
    presence, awareness and receptivity.

I drive, I walk
    with contemplative intention.
I arrive, I sit
    with contemplative intention.
I inhale, I exhale
    with contemplative intention.
I look, I listen
    with contemplative intention.

God honors the intention;
    the world opens to us
as we open to it.

 

Text and image © 2018 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit PhotosByDirk.com for fine-art photography.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.

Probiotics

Half awake,
    drinking my morning decaf,
I read the label on my new bottle
    of probiotic capsules.
Each pill contains
    30 billion individual living things.

"Alexa," I ask,
    "what's the population of the world?"

She responds:
    "As of 2017,
the population of the world
    is estimated to be
7.5 billion."

"Thank you," I say.

"My pleasure," she answers.

And then I think,

    I am about to swallow 30 billion living creatures,
    four times as many as there are people in the world.
    Tomorrow I will swallow 30 billion more.

    What if the earth
    is nothing but a great, big pill
        (big from our perspective),
    one of dozens in some cosmic bottle
    that a very big being
        (proportionately larger than the earth
        as I am to the pill)
    is about to swallow
    with a solar-system-sized glass of water...
    all to facilitate her/his digestion?

What if?

Just wondering.

Text and image © 2018 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit PhotosByDirk.com for fine-art photography.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.

Impostor Syndrome

He asked,
"How did you sleep?"

"Not well," I said.
"I'm leading a workshop this morning.
I never sleep well the night before."

"Ah," he said.
"Sounds like my wife.
It's the impostor syndrome."

"The what now?"

"Impostor syndrome.
You believe you're faking it,
though you really aren't.
You're well-prepared,
perhaps even over-prepared,
but you still feel anxious,
like it might all fall apart.

"You fear you'll blow it,
even though you never have.

"You're completely competent,
but don't trust your competency."

I recalled how many years it took me--
after working as an editor--
to finally be able to say with certainty,
"I am an editor...
and a good one.
To that point,
it felt like I'd been fooling everyone.

I recalled how many years of photography passed
before I could say with confidence,
"I'm a photographer."

"Is that it?" he asked.

"I think it is."

"You're not an impostor, though, right?"
he asked.

"No, I'm not."
A pause.
"I've got this.
I know that."

"I believe you do."

Text and image © 2018 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit PhotosByDirk.com for fine-art photography.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.

Homecoming

Who doesn't love a homecoming?

    returning to the old house
    meals shared around the oak table
        still solid on its pedestal
    stories retold
    memories, laughter
    visiting the playgrounds of childhood
        the ponds and woods and vacant lots
    seeing school friends
        all grown-up and responsible
    attending the white church at the edge of town
        with its worn wood pews
        the unchanging cadence of worship
        the hymns, every word coming back
    the sweet poignancy of loss
        those no longer at the table, the school yard, the altar
    the old wounds
    uneasy truces
    resentments
    roles we'd hope we'd outgrown

Homecoming is a return
to what we loved
and to what we didn't.

There is a truer homecoming:

    the return to self
    to wholeness and healing
    to the person we once were
        even if before memory

This homecoming is a return

    to what we loved
    to who we really are
    nothing to grieve here
    only an endless sighing into release and completion

Welcome home.

Text and image © 2018 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit PhotosByDirk.com for fine-art photography.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.

Not Much to Say

Sometimes,
I am so taken by an image
that I don't have much to say
other than,
"That's lovely."

I sink into it;
I exhale;
my body relaxes;
my mind stills;

I not only see it,
I feel it.

This is one of those images.

May you find contentment today.

Text and image © 2018 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit PhotosByDirk.com for fine-art photography.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.

"I Am an Artist"

If you say to yourself
    (or to anyone else)
"I am an artist,"
    then you're an artist.

What someone else might say
    doesn't matter.

If you say to yourself
    (or to anyone else)
"I am a writer,"
    then you're a writer.

What someone else might say
    doesn't matter.

If you say to yourself
    (or to anyone else)
"I am a dancer, sculptor, poet, singer, painter,"
    then that is what you are.

What someone else might say
    doesn't matter.

God gives us all
    imagination,
and imagination,
    when welcomed, when nurtured, when allowed,
must and will create,
    and that is art.

There are no standards, no review committees,
    only you and your creative impulse,
you and your imagination,
    you, the artist,
the writer,
    the dancer, poet, singer...

Inside you is an artist
    waiting for the good word;
go ahead,
    say it:

I am an artist.

Text and image © 2018 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit PhotosByDirk.com for fine-art photography.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.

Sophia at the Park

I came upon Sophia at the park this morning;
    she sat on a bench,
smiling as she watched three siblings
    playing on the swings
The oldest, a girl, perhaps 10,
    pushed her younger brother and sister,
all three of them laughing,
    the younger two squealing
each time they were shoved from behind:
    "Higher! Higher!"

I sat down on the bench and said,
    "Shekel for your thoughts."

Her grin broadened.
    "Children laughing," she said.
"Fully mindful play.
    All there is for them
is this moment,
    all that's needed,
nothing else,
    with the sun, the breeze,
the feeling of flying,
    love for each other,
awareness here,
    not before, not after,
the beautiful, innocent, pure, sacred
    now."

Silence,
    except, of course, for the children,
whose continuing audible glee
    provided the perfect soundtrack
for a few contemplative moments,
    shared.

And then I arrived:

    I am Sophia sitting on the bench,
        heart filled with peace;
    I am the big sister,
        giving joy;
    I am in the swing,
        receiving love;
    I know that, at each arc's apex,
        I can leap from the swing,
    spread my arms,
        and soar above the trees,
    circle the park,
        return;
    I am the grass and the birds,
        the breeze and the air;
    I am me,
        full, content.

Sophia was now watching me instead of the kids.
    "It's good, yes?" she said.

"Yes, it's good," I replied.
    I closed my eyes,
haled in, haled ex.
    "A shekel well spent."
But she was gone.

The children played on.

Text and image © 2018 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit PhotosByDirk.com for fine-art photography.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.

        

Your Next Foolish Project

Rumi encourages us
    to enter the stream's flow,
not to sit on the banks
    as life and faith slide by.

"Start a huge, foolish project,"
    he says,
"like Noah."

At which point he reminds us:

    It makes absolutely no difference
        what people think of you.

Repeat:

    It makes absolutely no difference
        what people think of you.

I have, on my desk,
    a card I laminated,
which reads, in part:

    I don't write to be understood,
        I write to understand.

In other words,
    do it, first of all, for yourself,
for your own pleasure,
    for your own growth.
That is reason enough.

If it touches another--
    very good.
If it touches only you--
    just as good.

So what foolish project will you undertake today?

Just keep reminding yourself:

    It makes absolutely no difference
        what people think of me.

Text and image © 2018 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit PhotosByDirk.com for fine-art photography.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.

On the Different Types of Silence

There is exterior silence,
and there is interior silence.

Exterior silence can be hard to find,
harder, I believe,
    in the confines of a city,
    in the chaos of a busy family,
    in a corporate cubicle,
    in the midst of a morning commute...

Exterior silence makes it easier to experience interior silence,
but with practice, interior silence can be experienced anywhere,
    in the confines of a city,
    in the chaos of a busy family,
    in a corporate cubicle,
    in the midst of a morning commute...

Both are important.
For those of us not used to practicing interior silence,
    exterior silence opens the possibility:
once the traffic, talk, TV, electronic devices,
    music, hassle, hustle have been stilled,
and silence descends like a warm blanket,
    a blurring mist,
    a cool glass of water,
then the jumping mind has a chance to ask,
    "Could this quiet shift within?",
and the opportunity presents itself.

So, yes, one can experience exterior silence
    without knowing interior silence,
and one can know interior silence
    without experiencing exterior silence,
but, generally speaking,
    they pair well,
like dark chocolate and Pinot Noir,
    or, if you're a nondrinker,
like Oreos and a cold glass of milk.

Once one gets past the fear of silence,
    which is, after all, the fear of the unknown,
once one understands that what might arise in silence
    deserves to be known, befriended, embraced,
then the descent of silence brings freedom, release, peace...
    and God.

And so we seek silence, both without and within.

How will you make
    (take, receive, welcome, enter)
silence today?

Text and image © 2018 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
Visit PhotosByDirk.com for fine-art photography.
Visit The60SecondSabbath.com, where spirit and image merge.