Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Those concrete blues

I was having a little trouble sleeping last night, so came downstairs, puttered around in the kitchen a bit, and then sat down at my computer. As you can see, another goddess emerged. Her working title is concrete blues -- which I thought was just because she was made from an image of a concrete manhole cover, which was then supersaturated to reveal the blues.

But as I continued reading in Walsh's Essential Spirituality this morning, I realized there could be another interpretation of the concrete blues: it's that sort of depressed feeling you get when you're too caught up in the material world -- the aches and pains of your body, or the challenges of daily living, or financial issues. You want to rise above it all, but you're all too aware of the earthly limitations and imperfections of this existence.

Joyce Rupp, in her book Prayers to Sophia, has a wonderful poem to offer about this particular malaise. It's called Desire for Spiritual Growth:

Gift of Mercy and Understanding,
all my good intentions for spiritual growth
go sliding down the gutter
of responsibilities.
All my hopes
of deepening prayer
get splintered and broken
in the chaos of busyness.
All my desires
to have a quiet haven
are swallowed
in the jaws of my calendar.
All my resolutions
to rise earlier, to pray longer
are lost in the blankets
of an extra hour of sleep.

And all the while
I fuss and fume about this,
you look at me and smile.
Are you sending me the message
that spiritual growth can happen
among the very things
that seem to keep me from you?
Are you assuring me
that my desire to grow
is not lost to you?

... and then she quotes Proverbs 1:20-21:

"Wisdom cries out in the street;
... at the busiest corner she cries out."

If you're struggling with the concrete blues today, well -- this may not be a huge consolation. But know that even though you're not experiencing the highs you associate with spiritual connection and growth, both those things are still happening.

Here's hoping you get a minute to stop and breathe, to set aside the fussing and fuming and feel the smile of wisdom.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Needed to be reminded of this today. Thank you

Maureen said...

So interesting. . . yours is the third post I've read today that encompassed such thoughts.

And Rupp, as always...

Jan said...

Thanks for that prayer.

Louise Gallagher said...

This very question came up at my meditation group tonight. And the poem is a powerful reminder of being present.

thank you!