The Current

Every day we navigate the zigs and zags of our lives. We take familiar routes to work or school, or on our daily runs.  The things we see every day can become so common in our vision that it is not unusual for them to essentially disappear from view.

There is an art to paying attention; it is work, no question about it.

We are being convinced in our culture that instead of tuning into our surroundings, we must pursue the dazzle, the epic, the sensational.  The common, then, must find a place off to the side just outside our peripheral vision.

This poem helps remind us of the extraordinary beauty that is alive and present within our common surroundings, no matter where we are. A sliver of sunlight moving imperceptibly across the floor. A dandelion blooming through a crack in the sidewalk, a kind “hello” from the person bagging our groceries. An audaciously red cardinal singing on the fence post for all he’s worth. A favorite old song on the radio when we need it most.

The risk is letting these small observations awe and move us.

To come awake to our own life through new eyes and ears every morning. To discover that the extraordinary if often hidden in our ordinary.  

It is sure to be there…

Little Summer Poem Touching the Subject of Faith  

by Mary Oliver 

Every summer 
I listen and look  
under the sun’s brass and even 
into the moonlight, but I can’t hear 
  
anything, I can’t see anything —  
not the pale roots digging down, nor the green  
stalks muscling up, 
nor the leaves 
deepening their damp pleats, 
 
nor the tassels making, 
nor the shucks, nor the cobs. 
And still, 
every day, 
 
the leafy fields 
grow taller and thicker —  
green gowns lofting up in the night, 
showered with silk.  
 
And so, every summer, 
I fail as a witness, seeing nothing —  
I am deaf too 
to the tick of the leaves,  
 
the tapping of downwardness from the banyan feet —  
all of it 
happening 
beyond any seeable proof, or hearable hum.  
 
And, therefore, let the immeasurable come. 
Let the unknowable touch the buckle of my spine. 
Let the wind turn in the trees, 
and the mystery hidden in the dirt 
 
swing through the air. 
How could I look at anything in this world 
and tremble, and grip my hands over my heart? 
What should I fear?  
 
One morning 
in the leafy green ocean 
the honeycomb of the corn’s beautiful body 
is sure to be there.  

If you’d like help learning to come awake to your life and rediscover the beauty that’s within and around you, we can help. Find your therapist and schedule an appointment today.

Dane Anthony is the Director of Spiritual Formation for Sage Hill Counseling. He also co-facilitates multiple groups each week and teaches various classes. Learn more about Dane or email him at daneanthony@sagehillcounseling.com.