Message to a Beach Walker

This past weekend Rickey took me to St. Pete Beach for a getaway in honor of my birthday. (I am a few days short of turning 60.) We did all our favorite stuff—beach walking, swimming, sleeping, reading, eating fried shrimp, and, of course, visiting a bookstore. It is all special, but if I had to choose, I would say the very best part (next to being with Rickey) is the beach with its huge expanse of water and sandy shoreline curving and stretching away for miles and miles, and with the quirky, noisy birds, and with the ever changing clouds and with the amazing light! There sure is a lot to celebrate.

But walking barefoot along St. Pete Beach can be a bumpy experience. In no particular order, I came to expect brief patches of shoreline thick with small bits of broken shells. Somehow, I learned if I walked carefully, I could mostly avoid the pain of the pointy pieces. Although walking past these small mounds was a bit awkward, listening to the swish of wave across them was beautiful. I felt like the “Shh…” I heard was at once a description of the sound and an admonition of how to proceed. I think I finally got it—walk slowly, listen deeply. What a gift!
Message to a Beach Walker
by Anna Cotton

Sand and waves wash small
mounds of thin shells--whispering
admonitions "Shh..."

Responding to Mark Wills

Mark,

I think you are on to something very important here. Down time (space) allows for not knowing, which in the experience of a mindful believer can allow for God’s spirit to act. Perhaps the best creative moments occur at that still point.

I’m with Jana, the emphasis on testing and grades breaks my heart. Saturday afternoon I went to local fair, and I visited the booth of the neighborhood elementary school where a colorful art display caught my eye. I met the principal who was so proud of what their art teacher helped the students create. She wanted folks to know she cared about her school's connection to the community. But she didn't have a chart showing test scores or student grades, she had an art display. Wow, what a neat idea!

Thanks so much for sharing your thoughts and connections.

Blessings,

Anna

Photography and Deep Listening

I went to Rollins College last week to hear poet Billy Collins lead a discussion about poetry and photography. I expected to enjoy the evening while gaining some fresh, helpful insights about writing. What I didn't expect was to have panel member Anthony Brannon, a famed photography historian, make spiritual connections that resonate strongly in my spirit. In fact, they are still stirring around inside me.

The spiritual connection started for me when Billy Collins remarked at one point how pictures are about the past. Consequently, they have a nostalgic quality about them. Brannon responded by telling how Thomas Merton used photography as a contemplative practice. "Merton," he said, "took pictures to help him himself be alive to the present moment." Brannon also said that "photographs propose the future precisely because we don't understand everything in them." In effect, some photographs require us to sit with them, hold them, and ponder them. He also pointed out how the "truth of a photograph can change us."

At that point I was reminded of last week's reading for our centering prayer group. Thomas Keating, in his book Mystery of Christ was reflecting on the three apostles witnessing of Christ's transfiguration. He wrote, "The practice of interior silence produces gradually what the voice in the vision produced instantly: the capacity to listen."

In the context of Brannon's remarks, it seems a photograph could work like a vision in helping us hear from God. This deep listening is what I want—to be alive to the present moment, to sit without understanding everything, and to be changed by the truth in the depths of my being. I'm in this for the long haul, and I'm grateful for my regular practice of centering. Yet it's encouraging to think how God works in unexpected ways, even in a conversation about poetry and photography.