Water and Spirit

 

Keuka 1

Water is an ordinary and essential part of living.  We use it in everyday routines and rituals; our morning shower, boiling over tea leaves, and swallowing a glassful with a pill.  My favorite spots usually include a view of water, whether the pond behind my childhood home, the Chesapeake Bay through my office window, and Keuka Lake from a friend’s cottage.  Yet I have usually looked at water in a habitual way, knowing what to expect and not paying close attention.

 

Then several years ago visiting my friend at Keuka, one of the New York Finger Lakes, something changed. I was watching the sunlight across the rippling water in the morning sun.  There were brilliant flashes of light like spilled diamonds. While it was pretty, I was seeing the water as I expected to see it, how I had always seen it.  But something shifted.  I had been practicing mediation and Centering Prayer, learning to let go of my internal chatter, my expectations. I began seeing the water as shifting patterns of color and light, dynamic and fluid.

 

I was no longer bringing my past experiences to how I was seeing the water.  I was using “soft eyes” to relax my gaze, to relax what I “know” so I could see it differently.  Other parts of me, undefinable parts of my being were engaged.  Was I connecting with something spiritual, engaging with my soul?  In truth I really don’t know.

Keuka 2

I think back to visiting the Musée de l'Orangerie in Paris, standing in front of the Monet Waterlily panels over 30 feet wide.  Standing in the center of the room one can see the flowers and floating leaves of the waterlilies, the reflections of clouds and hanging branches of the weeping willows on the surface of the water.  My eyes and my mind putting together all of the pieces to make a whole, definable image.  My mind putting words to what I was seeing, “water lily,” and “cloud,” and “tree.”  

Then I stepped up so my face was just a few feet from the painted surface.  There I saw abstract patches of aquamarine and turquoise, lavender and white, cerulean and teal, olive and emerald.  Each distinct shade wrapping around, under and over the others.  A swirling of color that did not mean anything in particular. Then across the top edge of the thick paint there was a single brush stroke of red, glancing across the colors underneath.  Stepping back, my eyes and mind again brought back the experience of standing beside the pool of water with dappled sunlight through the trees.  Stepping forward I would see the texture and mixture of color; stepping back I see recognizable objects.

As I write, I look out at the water of Keuka and alternate between the two ways of seeing: waves pushed by the South wind or as strokes of color.  I have had to practice how to see beyond my expectations to this alternative view.  Most of the time I just see what I expect to see.  But when I slow down, relax and quiet my busy mind and pay close attention, I understand anew.

A very similar process occurs when I am meeting with my spiritual director or when providing spiritual direction to other people.  We often start with telling the stories about what is going on, looking at it from our usual, habitual ways of looking.  We bring in different ways to understand what is happening, to make sense out of the nonsense of living.  Together we sort through what the story means using psychological theories, theological insights or aphorisms.  While all those may be useful in providing more insight into the story, they only go so far. 

At some point we take a deep breath, relax and step forward into the swirling abstract shapes, to open up a different vision.  We pay attention to a different perspective to our lives, one which we call spiritual.  One that is easy to forget in everyday life, or when we are too busy to take the time.  Yet we need to take the time, to step forward, if we want to grow more whole.

Keuka Summer Storm