SIMPLIFY YOUR LIFE BY SHEDDING WORRIES

I was in a church recently where a prayer card was handed out.  The prayer was by Thomas Merton (1915-1968)--American Catholic, mystic, Trappist monk.  Merton's prayer begins,

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.   

I do not see the road ahead of me.  

I cannot know for certain where it will end. 

Do we not all feel like this sometimes?  No idea where we're going.  No idea where our path will end.  What can we do when we feel like this?  Each of us may have a different answer.  Merton was a Christian so turned to God.  He says to his God,

"I know. . . you will lead me by the right road 

though I may know nothing about it.  

Therefore I will trust you always 

though I may seem to be lost. . . ."

This prayer helps me.  Some problems seem insurmountable don't they? We all have them.  Toxic people.  Deception or disloyalty.  Illness, aging, death.  Loss or fear of loss.  Even the young can fear growing older without the accomplishments they expected. A job, a spouse, a house, children, financial independence--each can seem out of reach.  Life has never been easy.

Would our lives be simpler, better, if we shed our worries about what we cannot change?  Experts seem to think so.  First to tackle is the PAST.  William Faulkner says "The Past is not Dead.  It's not even Past."

He is not talking about good things in our past, that is clear. But those things we wish had never happened.  

Because the past is immutable, we cannot wish actions or words away, hurt we either caused or endured.  Trauma fades, but something that devastates us fades imperfectly and not on our timetable.  We can only try to understand and fashion a narrative we can move forward with.  And as always, keep close company with those who understand and value us, whether one or many. A person, a pet, or even a memory. 

My own prayer is shorter than Merton's.  I simply ask God to help and guide me.  Or, the anonymous prayer "God be in my heart, and in my thinking."  That's it. No specifics.  No hamstringing God.  I don't have to define the problem, or fashion the solution. All I have to know is that I need help.

Of course this isn't foolproof.  Sometimes I ask too late, or with a hidden agenda.  But the gain from shedding worries about things we cannot change is immeasurable. We might call it the Peace of God.

FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT AND NATURE

"I believe in God only I spell it Nature."  So said Frank Lloyd Wright (186-1959). "Stay close to Nature. . . . It will never fail you," he told his students.

"Just connecting to beauty is consoling.  You see that people don't only make wars; they can also create great works of art."  Marieke Nijmanting

We were fortunate this winter to realize one of those life-time goals we all have. We visited Fallingwater in rural Pennsylvania.  The day was a lovely, crisp 18 degrees.  But the waterfall over which the house is built kept on flowing.  The noise of nature a constant for the people who lived there.  Somehow the freezing cold for two North Carolinians made it just that more memorable.  This picture is taken from across the creek, looking back at the cantilevers that jut out from the body of the house and follow the waterfall itself.

A fire burned in the open hearth and the furniture was swathed in fur rugs and blankets.  A true house built upon a rock. 

The shadows cast in the winter sunlight were stark with symmetry.  See how they crisscross?  It seemed like a very livable home, one that, even with the expanse of open space would cozen you in winter and free you in summer.  We were awed. 

Later in the week we went to the Guggenheim Museum across from Central Park in NYC.  It is said that Wright was inspired by the nautilus shell in designing the spiral ramp.  As someone with a twenty-year collection of sea shells, I resonated to that.  The museum seems to be a spiritual place, with rhythm and movement, unfolding like an organism.  Look at the rotunda skylight, letting in the sunshine through glass panes fashioned with the symmetry of a spider's web. 

Central to the rotunda is an Alexander Calder (1898-1976) mobile called Red Lily Pads.  After we saw it, I did some research.  It reminds many of leaves skimming a pond.  Ovoid disks floating parallel to the earth in a way that echoes the unpredictable activity of nature.  What amazingly simple beauty.  We took the elevator to the top ramp then walked slowly down, enjoying the mobile from every level.  Something millions of people from all over the world have done.

So much to be thankful for.  Great architecture and art.  The freedom to visit and enjoy it.  Armchair travel.  Photography.  The seasons.  Some days blessings abound.