Seasons, Egrets and Death

 

I set out to see the egrets but they were gone. There are things in nature I can watch for hours, lightning storms, meteor showers and egrets on water are some. The wingspan of an egret is roughly two feet less than that of an eagle. In stillness their white regalia makes forest backgrounds fade. Majestic and elegant flying over water, still captivating, though not as dramatic as an eagle stretching out to snatch a fish from the water (go watch a Mark Smith video). The egrets are gone from the rookery. To return in Spring. The cycle of seasons.

The question on the intake form, “Do you think of death?” I answered no (I lied) and handed the form back to the masked lady behind the desk. I think of death often. It seems a natural thought process. I mean, the song that put Marc Scibilia on the charts begins, “I’ve been thinking about dying, and how that’s gonna be…” In Christ it’s the air we breathe; crucified savior, cruciform life. Even Solomon says, “It is better to go into a house of mourning, for that is the end of every man, and it causes the living to take notice.” Maybe I should have answered yes to that question. The question should read, “Do you think about death without hope?”

My hope is to photograph an egret in it’s glide over the water. White wings shimmering in reflection, all creation still and silent. And why head to the rookery? To quote Lewis, “But nature gave the word glory a meaning for me. I still do not know where else I could have found one.” For nature awakens in us longings for another world. I glimpse that in the egret.

Photo by Akshat Adsule on Unsplash

Let Us Be Deliberate

 Getting sliced open for spine surgery is much like Adams’ experience in Eden. You both are put to sleep not knowing what waits for you post-op.  You both wake with less bone. Adam gets the perfectly paired partner and you got eight titanium screws. The big picture outcome for both operations is a flourishing life.

No nature or nurture debate for these two. The opportunity for Adam and Eve was for exponential development. Basking in God and nature the world was theirs. They could be their full selves. We on the other hand (thanks in part to those two) struggle to integrate soul and spirit. Increasing in soul formation and personal flourishing is always a battle.

“We plow the fields and scatter the good seed on the land,’ is a chorus from Godspell. The ground for growth is always available. The internal decision to flourish or atrophy (life on cruise control is an illusion) is one made minute by minute. I’m entering into a season of that choice now. Some days I don’t work the croft and the crop suffers.

In the face of death let us be deliberate. The seasons come with challenge; children, money, sickness, depression, celebrations, birthdays and weddings. Flourishing means showing up for surgery. Searching for openings and walking through them. Per Pressfield,  “We have a job to do, a calling to enact, a self to become.”

Photo by Wim van 't Einde on Unsplash

Rejoice In Them All

 “Seems to me, other than all things eternal, the only promised things in scripture are suffering and presence.” Our dogs were gentle and patient to no end. When they got in a fight though…You could lose an arm or a leg trying to break it up. Bruno, the younger Samoyed would step out of the round gladly but Sam was in it for dominance and blood. There was no letting go. This quote from E. Brown has had its’ teeth in me the same way.

Is it that black and white? My initial visceral reaction was to dismiss it as too simplistic. What about joy? What about peace? No, they don’t occur in a vacuum. They are a result of presence. This concept of presence persisted. His presence means we have immediate access to the ear of God; for worship and for lament. “A time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in the Spirit and in truth.”

“In this world you will have trouble and suffering.” Jesus guarantees it. That quote comes at the end of a stream of scripture assuring deep-in-the-soul peace to His followers. That peace comes in the person of the Holy Spirit as a result of Christ’s overcoming the world.

So what’s niggling at me? Is it the Hound of Heaven (a nickname for the Holy Spirit) stirring me? Here it is. What about love? Or that perfect wine and cheese pairing you had last weekend? The music group that brought you to tears yesterday; what about that?

My answer has to do with the Ecclesiastes and Chestertonian mindset I’ve been soaking in this last year. “We want a fiercer delight and a fiercer discontent. We have to feel the universe at once an ogre’s castle, to be stormed, and yet as our own cottage, to which we can return at evening…. We should not be affected by the fact that there are more dragons than princesses.” Delight in the fruit of your labor, worship God the creator, enjoy the friends of your youth. Even in seasons of deep suffering these may lighten the load. “Indeed, if a man should live many years, let him rejoice in them all, and let him remember the days of darkness, for they will be many.”

        Photo by Kateryna Hliznitsova on Unsplash

Lavish Libations

 

Once outlawed, always American with a tinge of sweetness! No single sip started our pursuit. The adventure began on a couch. Streamed, not sipped---Neat, the Story of Bourbon. Novice noses already used to experiencing rich nuanced flavors of coffee, wine and beer. As the saying goes, ‘If life’s not a great olfactory experience, then it’s nothing at all.’

Sonic slushy sweet it isn’t. I once grew corn in my backyard. Fresh corn isn’t like grocery store corn. Flavorful but still corn. Bourbon isn’t only corn, it’s 80 proof, maybe 100. There’s a burn, a bite that bursts in the mouth and coalesces in the gullet. Corn is the key to bourbon, but whiskey is a wider road.

The wife’s becoming connoisseur of the Old Fashioned. I’m finding I lean toward a rye. Friends, waiters and whiskey flights are good exposure. So came my introduction to Skrewball’s peanut butter whiskey! As a man addicted to all things peanut this had to be in the arsenal. Water or no water? Cocktail? Or neat; pure and at room temperature.

What about that whole Christian and alcohol thing? Say ‘speakeasy.’ I’ve fallen off both sides of the horse. Christ followers walk in this tension. Legalism is a list of rules and regs, do this and don’t do that’s. Liberty is an emphasis on freedom in everything. Grace is the over arching principle that we are all screw ups and Christ alone has covered our sins.

Upon dedication of the temple Hezekiah called for whole-burnt-offerings and lavish libations (2 Chron 29). One author aptly states that Israel celebrated with whiskey and barbeque. Paraphrasing the Poet Preacher, “Enjoy bourbon! This is your reward in life and in your toil.” Enjoying the piquancy of whiskey adds accent and highlight to this life. For mood or season, straight or on rocks it flavors life. For the rest of life’s course, always grace, always ‘neat.’

Photo by Edgar Moran on Unsplash

Book Ends

Death book-ended the week. Her friend and my friend. Different environments; her friend lived in the high desert. Mine, the Santa Monica mountains. Cancer and conversation a common connection. The spouse and I encircled in their Venn diagrams; chapters and lines.

There are simple straight metal bookends. Grandma owned a set of small, white, marble Roman pillars. There are flat ones designed by pragmatists and stone carvings that adorn the works they silently guard. Some slide and some are immovable. Marking off beginnings, middles and ends.

“In sin my mother conceived me,” begins one story. Starts and stops aren’t always in our control. But between the bookends; volumes are. Life coaches will tell you that book-ending the day helps you focus on achieving a goal. Funny thing though; goals aren’t the end. They are steppingstones.

Bookends hold books in place; words, ideas, terse aphorisms, stirring Annie Dillard descriptions (‘of hope laid bare’). Bookends are little tchotchkes with a hard and tight embrace around the mystery of expression.

Death does that—it should. Gets you to think about living and dying and story sandwiched between the two. The struggle; hammering out life, goal to goal, story to story—between the bookends.

“The words of the wise prod us to live well. They’re like nails hammered home, holding life together.”

Seasons Mundane and Seasons Exuberant

Remember your Creator in the days of your youth,
before the days of trouble come and the years approach when you will say,
 “I find no pleasure in them”—

An alpine climber leading summits of Aconcagua and Everest; a couple visiting each National park while living out of their RV; a witty, well published, motivational speaker; and a handful of professional photographers regularly appear on my Instagram feed. This morning I hit the snooze button twice and poured myself two cups of coffee before my morning reading and writing time.  I’ll write words for soul satisfaction only then head off to work that I do for the paycheck….’a time to throw stones and a time to gather stones.’

Autumn’s season sneaks up on her. My 85-year-old mother in law’s mind and muscle don’t respond as quickly as they once did.  Things that were once crisp and clean go hazy.  Eager exploration gives way to tiredness, frustration and afternoon nap. Entropy relentlessly pursues. Staying in bed is easier. TV easier. Decline is gradual.

Life has its’ seasons.  I’ve canoed the Colorado and submitted Whitney. A summer spent working with teens in inner-city Chicago.  Countless road-trips; sleeping under lightning sky and seeing countless shale streaked wildernesses by car.  I’ve quit taco-selling jobs after three weeks; had Summer jobs and jobs to make ends-meet. I expect all seasons to be like those seasons of exuberant exploration.

As axial tilt brings Earth closer to the sun; the choices we make and outside forces spin us throughout the year. We bend toward old age; bodies give in to gravity. This spring will be a different Spring than when I was Thirty. The tension remains. To find pleasure; and so there is a seeking.  To find contentment; and so there is a letting go.