Loving His Creation
I almost feel like saying, “Do you want the good news first, or the bad news?”, but the fact of the matter is, there’s no bad news when it comes to detachment - only a lot of hard work.
One of the areas where I think it’s easiest for us to get a sense of what detachment truly means is in our relationship with God’s creation. If we could love everything and everyone in our lives the way we love this beautiful universe He’s fashioned, then we would see how completely loving and freeing detachment really is.
When we are absorbed in the beauty of nature, be it a skyful of stars, a field of lavender, a roaring ocean, a snow-capped mountain, a daffodil, a hummingbird, or the frost on the windowpane, there is no sense of selfishness; there is no sense of, “I want these stars, this lavender field, this mountain for myself.” We are enthralled by the beauty, we try to absorb it into ourselves so we will never forget it, we marvel, we stand in awe, and we are led to glorify God for His work as Creator, and to give Him thanks for all He has given us.
We have no hidden agenda for the starlit night sky or the delicate frost patterns. We don’t try to improve them, change them, or make them stay any longer than they are meant to. Our sense of self-worth is not confused or threatened in any way by their existence, nor by the fact that we cannot have them for ourselves, any time and any place we desire.
Let us pause for a moment, close our eyes, and imagine a scene of nature that is dear to our hearts. Pause and think about the feelings that scene evokes - wonder, joy, peace, awe, a quiet praise and gratitude to the Lord. Now if we were to substitute something else for that nature scene - let’s see - a spouse, a career, a chocolate cake, a cigarette, a beer, a house, a car - hmmmmmm, I think this is where the hard work begins…
*very glad she did not add Ralph Fiennes, Celtic music, or morning coffee to that yummy list..*
Many years ago, I remember shouting into the ether, “Can I have NOTHING??” Once more, a trinket given me had been broken by children, and trust me, one’s life can once have been collectionless enough to desire one’s own trinkets, tokens of affection, mementos remain intact — a glass ship in a bottle transported safely from Spain by a Navy son, a ceramic Mission bell from a cousin visiting Santa Fe, a wedding gift of handmade Taos rug chewed irreparably by an illegally-free hamster, a thin, delicate porcelain and now headless Madonna which a mom had also treasured, a pear tree split during hide’n’seek, a birdbath carried home under son’s arm on a bicycle tipped one time too many..
I knew the answer to my silly question had come, the moment my heart came down to a dull roar and I parted with “my” best tree magnanimously. Until then, I’d thought I knew all that I could do without. It may be different for others, but I can have everything, yet I can own nothing.
April 26th, 2007 at 6:24 amPS.. I’m trying to make heads or tails of that “Vespers” painting above, but cannot. Yet I absolutely love it. I might even say it reminds me of the campfired-sleeping bag night. Perhaps that is what we looked like from across the lake, to Him.
“Vespers” means evening prayer? So.. maybe we do again walk with Him in the cool shade of the evening– even that has been Restored unto us?
Who painted this wondrous thing?
April 26th, 2007 at 1:43 pmYes, evening prayer. I’ve searched high and low for the little scrap of paper I wrote the artist’s name down on (at least, I think I did…) From now on, when I save pictures but don’t use them right away, I will keep a list of them in a little notebook for future reference. Yes I will. I really will.
April 27th, 2007 at 12:22 amYou should use a moleskine to keep your notes. Those little moleskines keep popping up here and there in the blogosphere, but they really are very practical!
Now to our topic. “there is no sense of selfishness; there is no sense of, “I want these stars, this lavender field, this mountain for myself.”
Etty Hillesum wrote that there was a time in her life when she would be touched so deeply by the beauty around her that she would feel physically ill. She felt as though she wanted to eat the flowers she marveled at, or possess the beauty of the wildflowers in the countryside just outside of Deventer.
When she began to learn detachment she defined her extreme sensitivity as a form of onanism, rather than an inherent ability to appreciate beauty. It was only when she began “giving” freely and generously to others that she found a way to channel that energy towards something positive.
I have felt this way at times. I get this aching in my heart when I see the beauty of the sea or the poppy fields in spring. I wish I could capture the moment somehow, but photos or a written description do not convey the same feeling I get at that time. I don’t know if it can be defined as onanism or just marked sensitivity, but when I read her book, those words popped out at me. From that moment on, I am more aware of this type of situation and I try to channel those feelings towards a fruitful goal. Like the time I was mesmerized by the beauty of the view near the abbey where my husband and I were married. I had just “met” padre Salvatore and on the spur of the moment, I wrote about what I’d seen that morning before I went to work. I told him that the feelings that had arisen in me were meant to be shared with someone, otherwise it would not have made sense. I’d written to him only once before, but we became each other’s anam chara from that moment on.
April 27th, 2007 at 2:04 pmBeautiful, FMN, and how is PS? What a sweet man.
I don’t know what the heck onanism is - I don’t know what anything is, lest I have it. Or get it!
I had one last great attachment.. and I think that has been broken, ‘tho a spiritual bleeding out is still underway. My soul seems to understand what this is for, but my mind doesn’t.
April 27th, 2007 at 9:14 pmI’ve never heard of that word either, and I’ve never felt physically ill by the beauty of nature or desired to eat the flowers, etc., but I have certainly felt this aching, definitely. And if all of this involves a kind of absorption, yes, I can certainly relate to that too. That’s what I meant when I said in the post that we try to absorb the beauty so that we won’t forget it. I didn’t mean strictly trying to retain it in the memory - that isn’t how I retain things of nature. For me, it’s almost like an absorption into my body, into my pores, into my spirit, into my whole being; an absorption of it, and/or being absorbed into it. But it has no selfish connotation - it is simply the power of the beauty of God’s creation. I honestly never thought it was unusual. I thought most everybody reacted this way.
April 27th, 2007 at 11:57 pmAbsorption.. yes. And it’s funny that you should say “so that we won’t forget it” — there’ve been so many times I tried to “log” something absolutely exquisite into my recaller - be it pores or memory or soul - that I may dredge it back up about 30 or 40 years from now when all my friends are gone, my limbs are useless, I’m trapped in some nursing home. I want to rejoice in it, thank Him for it all..
April 28th, 2007 at 1:03 amWell, the definition and biblical reference to onanism can be found at the link below, but put simply, at least in her interpretation of it is “sterile, calculated selfishness”, and that pretty much sums up the biblical sense, too.
http://www.gracecathedral.org/enrichment/brush_excerpts/brush_20031105.shtml
Ladies, I too, do as much as possible to cherish the joy of the laughter at our table (almost every day) and the joy of sitting on a bench in our piazza yesterday afternoon with Lory and hubby, talking about Lory’s results at school this year, watching the people go by and knowing they were thinking “these people look happy”. Those moments of joy are like a savings account with interest. In times of difficulty or when we feel abandoned by God, these memories may help us realize that life is cyclical. No matter how hard that moment will be, we should never forget that we have not only known sadness- but joy as well, and all will pass…and all will be well again.
But attachment to memories can go berserk, too. That’s when they become obsession. When my brother died, I would find myself repeatedly reliving the moment of when I found out and everything that happened in the days following that traumatic event. That was not good…or maybe it was…Maybe it was just my way of ruminating and digesting it.? It was sort of like a curling up in my shell, and nursing my wounds, but perhaps it was not sterile at all, because since then my life has taken a decisive turn towards a greater awareness and capacity to show love.
April 28th, 2007 at 4:12 amMaybe that’s the point: real, unhealthy attachments are sterile and do not produce healthy fruits.
Good points, FMN. And “cyclical” is another excellent word, yes! I had a genuine thankfulness for and easy camaraderie with all of nature, including human, when I was a hippie. I wasn’t attached to anything except maybe a gray workshirt that went so well with my entire *wardrobe*. I breathed in deeply the air of God (as He was freed into “unspecified source of not only all, but also of all love;” I marveled at His tree bark, wore His carnations in my hair, caressed His earth with my bare feet, and took in any of His creatures who needed shelter either for a night, a day, a year and shared my tiny portion.. and whether stoned or straight (and it was indeed almost always straight!), I was quite happy.
That’s it. I’m going to go look for a gray workshirt up at Goodwill today.
And.. Yes.. unless and until we process our traumas and diffuse them within us, it will steal life, for we will be hampered from being co-Creative, which is His invitation. That’s one of the reasons He cried at Lazarus’ death, even tho’ He knew He would raise him both now and later. Because we suffer, and we go on suffering until He comes again. I don’t think He could bear it without crying.
April 28th, 2007 at 10:02 amAbsolutely, fmn, that’s what detachment in the spiritual sense is all about - the freeing of oneself from self, the healthy fruit of which (at least one of them) is the availability of oneself for others.
Carol, processing our traumas and diffusing them - yes, and fmn, perhaps that is what was happening around the time of Mario’s death. A healthy (rather than obsessive) processing of everything that wasn’t possible to process while you were in shock and on automatic pilot.
April 28th, 2007 at 1:21 pmWe were cleaning out closets today, and the men-folk dumped everything they don’t want anymore on the couch for me to deal with. Now, what is wrong with these men-folk? Attachment or no attachment, how could they possibly think that I could give away my boy’s very first tie, and a Winnie the Pooh one at that! Honestly!
April 28th, 2007 at 2:41 pm*gasp!
We’ve given up on cleaning out closets (aka, attic). We invented pack-ratism. Husband still has a box of Webelo scout handouts up there, and one of the girls could not bear to part with anything — not even a 6th paper for which she’d received a good grade. I’d already noticed she’d dug out things from the last thinning out and had hidden them so she could keep them.. I stood over her as she emptied papers out of notebooks — I’d said we’d keep the best and put them in a scrapbook — and she literally kissed each one goodbye. Ok, now THAT’S attachment.. especially after I found them hiding in her closet, somehow exhumed from the garbage can once again!
But for cryin’ out loud, the boy’s first tie — and Winnie? Oh, how heartless are the menfolk.
April 28th, 2007 at 11:46 pmThese instructions are really helpful, Gabrielle. It’s like finding shortcuts along the contemplative journey.
What I find interesting is that I have experienced some of this detachment without recognizing it as a byproduct of spiritual growth. I find myself less and less attached to “things” and more appreciative of them as gifts. Then I read something like the descriptions in your posts and I think, “Hey, I’m getting somewhere!”
Quite encouraging.
May 1st, 2007 at 8:59 amThis is what I have experienced as well, Terry, and I think they work together, detachment as a byproduct of spiritual growth, and spiritual growth as a byproduct of our ongoing development of detachment. The appreciation of everything as gift is key; wonderful things start to happen when He fills us with a spirit of gratitude.
May 1st, 2007 at 11:06 am