Tuesday, August 3, 2010

A dark invisible workmanship

This morning I am thinking about the lumps and bumps of life; the times when things don't quite go as we planned, or when even planned disruptions seem to have minds of their own, and affect us in ways we hadn't foreseen or struggle to cope with.

We are so quick to label these things "bad," or to label these people "difficult" and set ourselves at odds with the challenge in the situation.  We continue to assume that life will be better once things "settle down a bit."

But "Living systems," says David Whyte in The Heart Aroused, "never really settle down... the plants and animals that do settle down do not survive for very long.  It is as if life is forever trying to keep itself exquisitely balanced on the edge between chaos and order, always about to fall into the imprisoning forces of an overly ordered world on one side and the seductive calls of complete chaos on the other.  Living systems that survive in the wild...must learn to adapt with the shifting ecosystems around them."


"When our perceptions have been dulled by the constant wish for order," he adds, "it may be difficult to imagine a world where we can live at an edge that also includes the patterned chaos of a wild system."  What we need to remember or understand to help us continue balancing on that edge, Whyte asserts, is the wisdom that fuels these marvelous lines from Wordsworth's Prelude:

"There is a dark invisible workmanship
that reconciles discordant elements
and makes them move in one society."

The older I get, the more I've come to believe that everything -- the good, the bad, the ugly, the bumps and bruises, the light and the cave -- all works together, not necessarily in the pre-ordained way I understood in my Presbyterian childhood, but in some way, usually beyond my understanding, for good.  Not that I can step back and see that when I'm in the thick of things!  But when I CAN step back, I most often see that all the stuff I'd like to avoid or toss (see? this does relate to yesterday's post!) has just as important a role to play in my growth and development as the good stuff.

Is this an odd bump, sitting at the edge of the marine landscape at LaPush?  Or is it an invitation to explore?  What is it that you see?  How is it that such a mass survives the pounding of the waves?  And what message does it have for your own sore and battered heart?

2 comments:

Maureen said...

That mass or island in your photo is living at the same time it is being eroded. I find it fascinating for the contradictions, its call to explore, its positioning as a metaphor for our own inherent contradictions, and also for our need to pay attention to the whole, the little and sometimes hidden things that tear at us perhaps in more profound ways than the large and surfaced.

Louise Gallagher said...

I see it as a beguiling place beckoning for a visit. It doesn't need to be explored, simply enjoyed.

it soothes my heart, eases my soul and lifts my spirits.

Nice post!