It is enjoyable to watch someone who knows what they’re doing.

Several local streets are in the process of getting a face lift- out with the old macadam, in with the new- and it’s been strangely gratifying to watch this process unfold. The crew knows what it’s doing, and they tend to business.

The rain has been fairly plentiful this summer, which means that lawn mowing has been a frequent task, and a pleasant one. There is something satisfying about being being able to improve the look of the place and get some exercise to boot.

I feel the same way about vacuuming the carpet, painting a wall, or doing the dishes- any task where there is a distinct before and after. It’s nice to gaze upon the completed work and feel a sense of accomplishment. I imagine that this is in part why electricians and plumbers and carpenters and road construction crews do what they do.

Tangible results, built-in feedback. I guess this is what I often crave.

In my two-plus decades as an ordained minister, I can honestly say that there have been very few days where I’ve felt like I knew what I was doing. By virtue of repetition, certain situations have become less stressful than they once were. But as far as having a handle on things in general- like I’ve mastered something- it has all remained quite nebulous.

And tangible results don’t often come with the territory.

This is the scientific name for the sensitive plant, a.k.a. humble plant, shame plant, or touch-me-not. It is, according to Wikipedia, native to Central- and South America, but is now considered a pan-tropical weed, grown for its curiosity value: the compound leaves fold inward and droop when touched or shaken, defending themselves from harm, and reopen a few minutes later. The foliage also closes during darkness and reopens in light.

The mimosa pudica also has a beautiful, delicate-looking flower. It was a pleasant surprise to look down one day and see these blooming.

Lately, the morning routine has become a refuge for me- quiet time at the beginning of a new day. Coffee and another post.

On occasion, it feels like the cart before the horse. I get up and get settled with no idea what the topic is going to be. Other times, there’s something that’s been bubbling up, clamoring for the light of day.

This is one of those cart-before-the-horse mornings.

Well, at least I updated the previous post with a picture from yesterday’s eclipse. That worked out pretty well- no eye damage and, as far as I can tell, no damage to my camera. And now there’s a record of the event.

Hopefully the conditions are decent for folks. With all the build-up, it’d be kind of a bummer not to be able to catch at least a glimpse of the solar eclipse today- total for some, partial for most. The next opportunity will be a partial eclipse in some areas of the country in 2023, or a total eclipse for some in 2024. Or if one has the means, just travel to the spot where the next one is scheduled. Various types of eclipse happen with some regularity around the world.

Apparently, the moon’s increasingly elliptical orbit means that in about 600 million years, there won’t be any more solar eclipses. So try not to miss the next one when it comes around.

May the skies be clear.

UPDATE:

For a number of years, beginning with my time in Boy Scouts, we would make our way to New Hampshire in the Fall to climb a 4000-footer.   I know- all the folks who live in the Rockies would be going “Ooh, a four thousand footer…”  I guess it’s relative, in a way, based on conditions and the altitude at which one starts a climb. And oxygen levels aren’t as much of a concern in NH.

Anyway, we would spend an entire day hiking somewhere in the White Mountains- Cannon Mountain, Mt. Osceola, Mt. Garfield, Mt. Moosilauke. Other times higher ones like Lincoln, Lafayette, even Mt. Washington on a couple of occasions.

At some point in the hike, we would be far enough away from the trail head yet still below the tree line, out of ear shot of road noise and not quite exposed to the wind that was usually present at the higher elevations.

We would come to spots where there would be hardly any sound. No babbling brook, not even the rustle of a leaf. It wasn’t eerie, but it would get your attention. It was beautiful- that we could be outdoors, on the side of a mountain, and not hear anything. We would pause just to take it in for a few moments.

A lasting sensory memory.

The Bible doesn’t have as much authority as people want it to have, at least in certain areas of our life experience.

Think about it. While it continues to speak eloquently in some ways to our human condition, it is a collection of letters and poems, prose and laws, the most recent of which was written around 1900 years ago, with the balance of contributions written over the course of about 1200 years prior to that. 

In the midst of what has been lost in translations, and what has been molded and shaped to support various world views and interpretations of the texts (i.e. the many versions of the bible that exist), there is a desire for scripture to offer guidance and authority on topics for which it is not ideally suited to speak.

For starters, slavery and sexuality. Yes, the references to slavery are numerous in both the Old and New Testaments. But that was then. This is now. And slavery to sin is a whole other thing.

The allusions to sexual preferences and habits have been debated to death, without clear resolution.

We cherry-pick texts that resonate with our gut feelings and perpetuate stereotypes and wrong-headedness, without regard to current conditions on the ground, including in our own families. Without regard for knowledge that wasn’t available two- or three thousand years ago. Without regard for evolution in thought and understanding of what it means to be human.

Without, seemingly, regard for the gospel witness concerning Jesus of Nazareth, whose love for all of creation was made clear in his earthly ministry and his death on a cross.

Saul who became Paul, in his letter to the church in Galatia, claims that “there is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male or female…”

If we’re going to cling to words of scripture for guidance and direction, we’d do well to move away from the ignorance and naivete of certain ancient understandings and prohibitions, and toward the freedom of the gospel. Toward grace and a release from the weight of judgment of ourselves and others.

Who do we think we are, anyway?

Spoken, written, texted, tweeted. The sheer volume of verbiage that finds its way to expressed form on a daily basis must be colossal.

I remember a seminary professor describing words as being like arrows- once released, there is no getting them back. Things are set in motion, for better or worse. Impressions are made, messages are sent, opinions are formed.

Words heal and wound. They compliment, denigrate, conflate, conflict, clarify, confuse, deflect, distract. Words inspire and anger. They fan the flames or pacify. A command of the English or any language is a formidable tool. Or weapon.

They may not speak as loudly as actions, but words generate their own sound intensity. And through them, we are given glimpses into who people really are.

The word, in certain contexts and variations, really gets under my skin. “This is boring…” “I’m so bored…”  Well, your choice of words is boring. A real yawner.

According to an article in The Guardian, boredom “is not a problem to be solved. It is the last privilege of a free mind.” The tag line that follows suggests that one “lean into boredom, not your smartphone screen. You’ll learn more about yourself and the world around you than you think.”

The “cure” is not a packed schedule or some sort of adrenaline rush. It’s not finding a hobby or cleaning your house. Boredom is not tragic, according to Gayatri Devi. It’s an encounter with pure time as form and content. And we shouldn’t be in such a hurry to avoid it.

Granted, sometimes we just need to get moving and do something constructive, be useful, contribute.

But not always. Sometimes it’s a luxury to have a little while just to…

think.

 

Does everybody have a routine? Not a comic routine, but a repeated, even anticipated and welcome pattern to at least a portion of their day. Even folks who despise routine- are they really that intentional about living every single day differently than the day before? Or are folks bent on living atypical lives really just living a different sort of routine?

There is nothing riding on an answer to these questions. In the larger scheme of things, it’s not worth spending much time on. It’s just something that came to me while I paused to make my morning coffee and the topic for this post emerged.

I am a creature of habit, probably to a fault. I like predictability, which given my current line of work might seem odd. I’ve had the occasional call from a hospital or a parishioner that necessitated an abrupt change of plans, and have never appreciated these unanticipated interruptions. They do come with the territory, but this doesn’t mean I have to like them.

Sometimes routines seem a luxury to me. They are familiar and comfortable. Other times, they seem to be a sovereign with too much power, and I wish to be free of them.

This is going to sound like an advertisement, but I just want to thank the folks at Apple for including the Depth Effect in Portrait mode on the latest iPhone. It’s probably difficult to tell in this picture, but the original is strikingly clear and crisp. It truly pops on a larger screen- amazing foreground detail.

It doesn’t render a regular camera obsolete just yet- still needs a good telephoto option. But one has to wonder what’s in the works.