No doubt you are familiar with lectio divina, the spiritual practice of sacred reading in which you contemplate a piece of scripture or a selection of other holy reading. In lectio divina you may discover something previously unnoticed and understood, even in words you have read multiple times. As you sit with the words, the movement of God in your life may become clearer or may lead you to further examination and reflection.
The practice of visio divina or sacred seeing can be just as profound and just as much of an intimate encounter with the Divine. Christine Valters Paintner writes in her book The Soul of a Pilgrim, Eight Practices for the Journey Within, that visio divina is a "way of seeing the world with the eyes of the heart, which is the place of openness, rather than with the mind, which is often the place of planning." How good it is to remind myself to set aside my planning, list-making mind.
Paintner suggests taking a contemplative walk. Notice what you see, what touches your heart, what remains with you. What shimmers, calling for your attention? Savor the image and allow it to stir up memories or feelings or other images. Does the image summon you to a new awareness or a next step or perhaps gratefulness or compassion or openness?
Taking a picture of what you see (You have your phone with you, right?) means you can slow down your reaction to the image and bring it with you into stillness, discovering more meaning, perhaps deeper meaning.
I took this picture Sunday afternoon. What do you see?
When I came home from grocery shopping my husband was working in the front yard. We had been to a nursery after Sunday brunch, and I was not surprised to see him adding new plants to the front garden. Gardening is a spiritual practice for him, and he spends much of these gorgeous spring days adding beauty to the world.
Today, however, he was also building a relationship. As I unloaded the grocery bags from the back of the car, I heard Bruce and this preschool boy, one of our neighbors, having quite the conversation. The young boy asked Bruce if he knew the Okie Dokie Brothers. No, Bruce did not. "Who are they?" and the conversation continued. I stood on the sidewalk and just listened. It was clear I was not invited to enter into this new friendship, at least not yet. Maybe if I had a cookie to offer!
I carried my bags into the house and returned to the front stoop to eavesdrop. "Will your sisters and brother be out of school soon?" I didn't catch the response, but clearly, the little boy is an excellent conversationalist.
The rest of the afternoon I thought about these two, one young and the other many decades older, forming a relationship. I see the older man leaning on his shovel, stopping what he was doing and giving his full attention to the young man, showing him interest and respect. I saw the little boy sitting on his red scooter a few doors down from his house, clearly comfortable in his own world and reaching out to someone new. He shared information about himself, and the older man received it graciously.
I see curiosity in this photo. I see a willingness to form a connection. I see community. I see how generations can learn from each other. I see safety and warmth and ongoing creation. I am moved by the sight and feel gratitude and hope.
That's a lot to see in one simple photograph, taken quickly and without regard to composition, but the eyes of the heart are without limitation.
An Invitation
I invite you to practice visio divina occasionally this summer. What do you see? I would love to know.
Love the idea and your photo and story!
ReplyDeleteI am not surprised this resonated with you. Your book Looking and Seeing is such a good guide for the practice of contemplative photography.
DeleteI see nurturing in this photo. The gentleman is nurturing not only the lovely garden and plants but also the curious mind of the sweet boy.
ReplyDeleteOh yes, I agree. Thanks for offering this observation.
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