Jesus lines up with the other spiritual leaders when it comes down to what it is really all about – this life we have been granted in this time and place: Love God, love yourself, love your neighbor.
Right here, right now, return to these three things in all you do and say, in all that you are.
Mean good things for yourself and others. Work to bring those good things to life.
Accept the love God offers and return it.
Clarity of purpose and a life of true simplicity come from this. A holy life, no matter what comes your way.
‘Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free,
’tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
and when we find ourselves in the place just right,
’twill be in the valley of love and delight.
Simple Gifts, Traditional Shaker Hymn
Why did God give us life?
The answer is simple: because God delights in us. Because each and every one of us is unique, never seen before and never coming again. The whole nature of the universe is changed because each of us, beloved and unique, came into life. That truth is a cause for celebration. It’s delightful in the most profound sense.
That doesn’t mean that we always live into that delight, or even recognize how much we are loved and prized. I suspect that we’d do a lot less damage to ourselves and others if we truly embraced God’s love and delight for us. But when we do, when we experience God’s delight in us, we find ourselves in a holy place. And when we recognize others and God’s delightful children, we find we are residents in that valley of love and delight.
‘Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free,
’tis the gift come down where we ought to be
and when we find ourselves in the place just right,
’twill be in the valley of love and delight
Simple Gifts, Traditional Shaker Hymn
It’s been a grumpy start to the day. The cat started complaining outside my bedroom door just before six, looking for breakfast (Normally, I’m up before the yowling starts, but I stayed up late reading and hoped to sleep past the usual time). My husband said he’d feed the cats, but didn’t get up fast enough to do so before the noise had me fully awake, with sleep no longer an option.
Once up and in the kitchen, I found no clean cat bowls – no one ran the dishwasher last night. The cat continued complaining through the extra few minutes it took to get the cat bowls clean. Food down, yowling ceased. I stomped back into the bedroom, grabbed my computer and glasses, then shut the door behind me loud enough for my husband to hear it. I grumped my way through emails while my husband got up and ready for work. Short on sleep and patience, I was none too gracious when he left.
Was there anything so different when I got up this morning than most other mornings? Only that I got up on the wrong side of the bed instead of the right one. I woke up in a house I love, where I’ve lived and loved fully and well. It’s never been perfect, it isn’t perfect now, and it won’t be perfect in the years to come. But it’s been just right for living an interesting life, for fostering the life of those I love through whatever the years brought. A complaining cat and a too slow spousal response was all it took for me discount this place that has been not perfect, but just right.
It’s only 8:15am, and I have options: I can continue to grump my way through the day, finding all the things that are imperfect or undone here and now or I can settle into the rightness of this life, this moment. I can keep throwing my little tantrum or laugh about it and let it go…
[Honestly, who can listen to Simple Gifts and still complain?]
‘Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free
’tis the gift to come down where we ought to be
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
’twill be in the valley of love and delight.
Simple Gifts, traditional Shaker hymn
I don’t know that we think about where we ought to be much these days. Where we want to be, but not so much where we ought to be. Because where we want to be sounds like a lot more fun than where we ought to be. But what if that assumption is false? What if where we ought to be is someplace that fills our souls with peace and our hearts with joy?
I think we are where we ought to be more than we realize. We are there to open a door for someone else, wait with patience in the check-out line, read a bedtime story for the umpteenth time, or stand firm when the right thing to do is going to cost us.
The question is: do we notice when we are where we ought to be? Are we aware enough to feel the peace and joy that are ours in this place of ought to be?
‘Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free
’tis the gift to come down where you ought to be
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
‘twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gained,
to bow and to bend we shan’t ashamed
to turn, turn will be our delight
’til by turning, turning we come round right.
Traditional Shaker Hymn
There have been many times in my life when I had to choose between seeking something I wanted for myself directly and seeking a way that offered something not quite what I wanted and something life-giving for those I love most in this world. When I’ve chosen the second path, it’s always held something unexpected, usually as intriguing and life-giving as the more obvious choice. What I got out of it was always enough.
I can’t say I’ve always chosen wisely, or been particularly gracious or thankful for the alternate path. I can say that I’ve lived a deeper, more sacred life – even though it may not look like what I originally imagined, wanted, or expected. I am grateful for the choice in the first place, and for God’s presence on my chosen path. Maybe the gift to be free is the blessing to choose until I end up where I ought to be…
‘Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free
’tis the gift to come down where you ought to be
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gained,
to bow and to bend we shan’t ashamed
to turn, turn will be our delight
’til by turning, turning we come round right.
Traditional Shaker hymn
‘Tis the gift to be simple…
…not simplistic. Simple isn’t ignorant: simple is seeing the essence, not getting distracted or captured by superfluous add-ons. Simple should not be mistaken for easy.
In graduate school, most of the assigned books were poorly written and the lectures often full of unnecessarily obscure vocabulary. I often wondered whether the professors remembered that the purpose was to foster the learning of others rather than to make their students feel unprepared and incapable. What should have evoked joy and wonder – the luxury of learning and pondering how such learning could make this time and place more blessed – usually didn’t.
The gift to be simple is the gift to not oversimplify or over complicate – to see things clearly and to share that vision with others without fuss or condescension. It is to realize that the truth of the cosmos is written in nimble poetry more often than stilted prose.
To be thankful for the gift to be simple is to stop trying to hide the fullness of self – and to stop running from the enormity of this God created and God related cosmos.
He would go for walks with us, following along to keep us company. We always knew when he was near because his nails would click on the floor – he didn’t retract them as most cats do. He was part of our daily lives for over twelve years. He was more a dog in a cat suit than a cat.
After a good life and a few months of medical adventures, his body stopped working. We did the hard right thing, letting him go rather than let him live in pain. The tears we cry now are a sure sign of the love and grace Taylor brought into our lives.
These days, there’s so much coming at us from all sides. The noise of media never stops; it comes with a chirp on our phones, with the never-ending ticker tape running across the bottom of the television screen, with flashing billboards that cram two or three ads in the time it takes to drive past them on our morning commutes. Where is the high ground, the safe space that offers rescue and rest from the deafening storm of modern life?
Modern life isn’t providing a multitude of ideas akin to brainstorming. The pace of it is too rapid to be absorbed or digested. The response is to hunker down, to weather it.
So what can we do, how do we aim for more than surviving this modern life? The answers are ancient: breathe. center. cultivate silence.
Will we miss out on some interesting things by doing these things? Absolutely.
Will it save us from drowning in the maelstrom of things tearing us apart? We’ll only know by trying…
[Robert Kegan wrote this book in the 1990’s. His main point: it isn’t enough to be a good person and a skilled, dedicated worker to live a successful life. Modern life demands critical thinking skills never required in past decades. And our society is not fostering those skills.]
It could be a dragon’s eye. Maybe a chambered nautilus done in blue brick. A stairwell – an actual well with stairs? The font is strange, with the title on what could be a music staff – the F and T both look like they have musical notes incorporated in their design (the P and E are made of spikes or nails). It could also be the lines you find in first grade, guides for those learning how to write. A boy and a shepherd are walking down the lantern lit stairs. Throw Stephen King’s name writ large on the top, and it’s one of the oddest book covers I’ve ever seen. Stephen King writing a fairy tale?
King is a master of horror, not fairy tales. Then again, if you un-Disneyfy and de-sanitize what passes for fairy tales these days, you’ll find that plenty of horror clings to the traditional versions. Is this cover giving fair warning that what is within might be dangerous? That ran through my mind when I saw it at the Northshire Book Store. And when I brought it home.
I think this cover asks a question: are you brave enough to dare looking inside?Will you open the door and go in? Are you willing to leave your ideas of what is real and what is possible behind?
If I’m honest, a look in the mirror or into the face of another brings up the same questions…am I up for the adventure of a lifetime, full of shadows and blinding light?
I didn’t pick up this book for myself; it was a Christmas gift for my then seventeen year old son, who has created art that fits well in the Modern Art category. Because he said it changed his whole understanding of Art, I read it.
What are you looking at? Add one of the most recognizable modern art images, and it’s hard not go beyond the cover.
The book itself is amazing. Gompertz walks readers through the history and expressions of modern art, making accessible a whole category of work that I’d never given any time or attention to. Now, instead of my eyes sliding over the modern art pieces in a museum as I scurry to the Impressionist gallery, I stop and spend time really looking at them. I give them more than a passing glance because the cover of this book led to the pages inside, led to a pause, and led to a second look. I move beyond my first, fleeting impression.
What are you looking at? What am I looking at? Dangerous, life-altering questions. Because if we stop and ask them, pause for a second look, we might just see what is right in front of us. We might look at that bush long enough to see it burning. We might hear the voice of God. And we might remove our sandals because we know that we walk on holy ground.
If we don’t pause, we’ll miss it. At least for the time being. I suspect that the Holy will continue planting burning bushes and sacred images on our paths until we finally stop and look.
