This past Sunday marked the first week in Advent, the first season of the Christian year leading up to Christmas and including the four preceding Sundays. I was heartened to learn that it is also called the “season of stillness” because that’s basically what I’ve been doing — sitting next to windows in my home, watching the changing light.
Keeping still does not come easy to me. Most mornings, I am up by 4 a.m., checking the weather and the time of the sunrise, preparing to venture into farmland. This week, however, my ventures into farmland have been unusually still, quiet, cloudless . . . but nevertheless with changing light. Also unusual is that I stopped walking at the point where the photo below was taken and headed home.
When I got home, I retreated to my poetry room and simply sat, looking out the window. I then picked up my newest book of poetry, Bestiary by Donika Kelly and read the first poem, “Out West.” The last two lines summed up my Advent practice this year:
Do not wander. We are all apportioned
a certain measure of stillness.
I love your prism tree so much! And the end of your piece left me with a smile. The changing light. I like that.
Thank you, Neola. I just noticed that I had a typo in the first line of the two lines of the poem I shared at the end of this post. Twelve words and I flub one. 😐 I corrected it.
That prism tree? I’m whispering now because I am going to reveal one of my guilty pleasures: I purchased it in July from QVC during its annual “Christmas in July” sale. Yes, I’m a real sucker for radiating rainbows. Guess it makes watching the changing light much more interesting.💕
Thank you for this restfully beautiful peace piece.
I thought immediately of Zechariah’s prophecy at the birth of his son John the Baptist:
“By the tender mercy of our God,
the dawn from on high will break upon us,
to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the way of peace.”
We are living in such dark times, but maybe we can follow your good example and let every ray of light still and quiet our anxieties and restlessness and maybe, then, even shine through us somehow.
You are so welcome, Carol, and thank you for assuaging my blog tech frustration with your beautiful comment and spot- on scripture “endorsement.”
I feel blessed in some strange way because I don’t purposely set out to quiet my anxieties and restlessness. I just catch and observe myself doing it. Someone is certainly guiding my feet into the way of peace. xoxo
Loved your light/quiet reflections. This winter/this time in our country/this LOUD time–we can all use/all need quiet and stillness and light. Thank you for sharing. My inner and outer being is sooo loud and dark. I need quiet and light. Thank you as always.
Charlotte, quiet and light will always trump loud and dark, thank the good Lord.
A prism tree?! Who know? Excellent purchase! In this season of decorating, wrapping and shipping, I love this reminder and call to stillness. Now, if only I can answer that call. First, the Post Office!
I hear you, Beth! Adrienne and I still have our holiday cards to create and I have my own holiday packages to mail!!!
I don’t know if you saw in my response to Neola’s comment that I purchased the “prism tree” on QVC during its annual “Christmas in July” sale. It’s actually plexiglass and has about a gajillion “light shows” for entertaining in the evening. I prefer the natural light of the sun reflected through it, but the light shows are incredible. Seriously.
With her permission, I am posting this comment from my beloved, Betsy that she emailed to me:
“Love the photos and the poem, Sharon. Watching the changing light should be a required Advent practice!
If I was going to have a tombstone, this would be on it [the last two lines of the poem, below]. Thank you for sharing it. A perfect mantra for the days of Advent!
‘Do not wander. We are all apportioned a certain measure of stillness.'”
Betsy — I love your idea of using the last two lines of the poem featured in this post on your tombstone. However, I hope we won’t be reading them on your tombstone any time soon! xoxo