contemplation.

“The ordinary activities I find most compatible with contemplation are walking, baking bread, and doing laundry. ” --Kathleen Norris

I might add "driving" to Kathleen Norris's list, too.  Yesterday, while the girls were napping, I slipped out for a Peet's coffee and a little fall shopping. As I drove down I-80 towards Fairfield, I suddenly felt nostalgic for all of those alone car hours spent in quiet contemplation during the days of my "youth"...all those moments in my teens and twenties when I took for granted the blessing of driving in solitude...when I didn't understand that these contemplations would one day be consumed by Dora the Explorer DVDs, sister bickering, and a constant stream of questions from my four year old.

Yesterday was bright and clear, one of those fall days perfect for football or just camping out on the patio of a coffee shop or pub.  The trees are still mostly green here, with faint touches of red slowly slipping into the leaves. It's hard to put into words the way the "feel" of life changes during the fall, the shift in the angle of the sun, the way everything seems to pause a bit, the way sound and light seems more concentrated. You can feel the change, the slow death, the stirrings of something that is beyond our power or grasp, and yet it's almost impossible to describe.

I was listening to the new Blind Pilot album in my car yesterday, but I found myself drifting to all the other music in my iTunes library that reminds me of the fall. A little REM--Automatic For the People, some Counting Crows, Neil Young, of course, a little Pete Yorn, some old school Matchbox Twenty, Ben Folds Five, and definitely David Gray. Why does music provoke so many memories, and why do all of those memories feel denser to me during this time of year? I think a Fall Mix is in order.

My sweet, heroic hubby took the girls to church this morning while he taught Sunday school and let me stay home alone to enjoy some peace and quiet, some needed rest. I'm listening to music, the dishwasher is running, and I'm soaking in these hours to just be. I took a bubble bath, had some hot tea, and spent some time journaling.  As I wrote, I was aware of a subtle, intuitive sensation that something is stirring.  

Do you ever get that feeling about life?  

It's a lot like the autumn...you can't quite put your finger on it, but you sense that something is either growing...or dying...or dying so that something new can grow in its place. God's Spirit is always stirring. Sometimes I feel it, sometimes I don't, but lately, I have felt it strongly. I'm struck by the irony that the more I rest and trust in God, the more movement and stirring I feel...and the less hustling and striving I do. There is still motion, but a different kind of motion. It's movement that doesn't require any action on my part, but only stillness, listening, and open hands. That's the best kind because it doesn't leave me exhausted, but only more at peace, more at rest, more in touch with the real me.  

While I tend to dread certain drudgeries of domestic life, I've lately found myself enjoying them more...the laundry, cooking, cleaning. Inspired by Kathleen Norris as well as a few of my other favorite writers, I was compelled on Friday to try my hand at baking bread...real bread, with yeast and all.

The whole step wise process of the yeast rising, then kneading it down before allowing it to rise up again, is relaxing (if you have the time for it!) Baking bread requires leisure and patience, a bit of delicacy. Or, as my favorite poet, Linda Pastan says,

"bread rising in the bowl

is like breath rising in the body";

or "if you knead the dough

with perfect tenderness,

it's like gently kneading flesh

when you make love."

Baguette...pita...pane...

challah...naan: bread is 

the universal language, translatable

on the famished tongue.

I become more and more certain that the best things in life take time, patience, and delicacy to develop.  You can't rush them or push them.  They have magical qualities that are out of our control and understanding. This is how God works, how His spirit works, and how we work, too, if we stay connected to Him, the Source of it all. Creation takes time and delicacy. Becoming who He created us to be is this way too.  

I'll end with one of my favorite Psalms, which seems to express some of my contemplations lately...

"I will bless the Lord who has given me counsel;

My heart also instructs me in the night seasons.

I have set the Lord always before me;

Because He is at my right hand I shall not be moved.

Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoices;

My flesh also will rest in hope."  --Psalm 16:7-9

What have you been contemplating lately?  What ordinary activities do you find compatible with contemplation?