Yes. This.

"Can I stay still? How still? It is astonishing how many people cannot, or will not, hold still. I could not, or would not, hold still for thirty minutes inside, but at the creek I slow down, center down, empty. I am not excited; my breathing is slow and regular. In my brain I am not saying, Muskrat! Muskrat! There! I am saying nothing. If I must hold a position, I do not 'freeze.' If I freeze, locking my muscles, I will tire and break. Instead of going rigid, I go calm. I center down wherever I am; I find a balance and repose. I retreat -- not inside myself, but outside myself, so that I am a tissue of sense. Whatever I see is plenty, abundance. I am the skin of water the wind plays over; I am petal, feather, stone." ~ Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek (pg 200-201)


You know how when you're conscious of something, you start to notice it everywhere? It happened while reading yesterday, when I came across this passage in the middle of a chapter about stalking muskrats. Pilgrim at Tinker Creek is turning out to be a fitting companion to Lent.

Perhaps this is a little bit what elusive stillness looks like.

(the picture is a muskrat, by the way. I had no idea what they actually looked like until now.)

The Pursuit of Stillness

We live in a world of perpetual motion. Everything, from the blood cells racing through my fingers to the atoms that make the plastic in my keyboard, is moving somehow, even if only by indecipherable vibrations and whirling electrons. Minutes congeal into hours, and hours pull our days along, and somewhere we tend to forget the sanctity of every breath.

Maybe there's a touch of cosmic irony in the fact that I noticed this while mindlessly checking Twitter on my phone for the 58th time one day. I live in perpetual motion, up-to-the-second gratification of my need to know. And along the way, my eternally racing thoughts forgot how to be still.

What does stillness look like? What is peace? The old song talks about "peace like a river," and my Florida-bred heart finds her rest on a quiet beach, where the ocean's cadence sounds like the tired earth's breathing and I can walk ankle-deep in sand for hours without feeling the least bit tired. But even there is motion, flow. Maybe the purest form of that kind of solitude is an expanse of a lake, undisturbed by wind or waves, mirror-like and so clear you could see the bottom if you dared lean over far enough.

Yes. Something like that.

Whatever that is, I can't remember the last time I felt it. A soul calm and quiet, simply at rest.

Today was Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent. I've grown to love this season, mostly for the way it refocuses my heart on the promise of Easter. I don't know if it's the spring-like weather or the aforementioned constant motion, but somehow it sneaked up on me this year. That might not be so bad, since it affords little time to think out a plan of sacrificial attack, but at the same time it's hard to drum up the "right" feelings during this time. I'm "supposed" to feel heaviness, something real and meaningful and holy. As I thought about it, my list of potential sacrifices grew and grew, and so did my insecurity... what if I haven't been doing this for the right reasons? Why bother?

Then I remembered those images. The lake. The quiet. Downcast eyes and a near-breaking heart. What if Lent could be less about giving things up and more about pursuing a stillness of heart I may never reach unless I let it come find me.

So here it is. Day 1. I did give something up -- my usual coffee, a small thing of no spiritual consequence that I can live without. Rather than a sacrifice, I think of it as a very small token of gratitude. But, perhaps more importantly, I want to add more meaningful quiet to my life. It may look like taking the time I spend compulsively checking Facebook and using that to write and read. It may be time to do nothing and not feel guilty about it. It may also mean initiating real conversations with people I care about, or writing some letters (you know. with a pen.)

Who knows? That's the thing, isn't it? The pursuit of stillness leads to deeper mysteries, if one is quiet long enough to hear them.

***

I greatly appreciated Kristin's post "Giving Up the Heaviness of Lent" at Halfway to Normal today. It sounds like we wrestled with some similar thoughts in the time leading up to Lent. Do me a favor and go read her blog, k?

True Vocation

Sometimes, a poem stops you, makes you say "Yes!" out loud to nobody but yourself because something is so clear you should have known it all along, but hiding in front of you all along. I had one of those moments when I opened Billy Collins' Horoscopes for the Dead to a random page and read "Vocation" last night.


Even if (especially if) you don't like poetry, I strongly encourage you to dig into Mr. Collins' work. It's accessible, witty, profound, and beautiful in its simplicity.





As I watched the night sky
from the wooden dock
I had painted gray earlier that day

I saw an airplane fly,
its red port-light blinking all the while,
right through the Big Dipper

nearly clipping one of the stars
of that constellation,
which was tilted upside-down at the time

and seemed to be pouring whatever it held
into space one big dipperful at a time.

And that was when I discovered
poised right above me
a hitherto unknown constellation

composed of six stars,
two for the snout and the four behind
for the pig’s trotters

though it would have taken some time
to make anyone see that.

But since there was no one there
lying next to me,
my constellation of the Pig
remained a secret

and a bright reminder,
after many jumbled days and nights,
of my true vocation—

keeping an eye on things
whether they existed or not,
recumbent under the random stars.

~ Billy Collins, Vocation (from Horoscopes for the Dead, 2011)

Be Writing

photo © 2010 Kazi Hirok Al-Arafat | more info (via: Wylio)If I'm not careful, I can let being a writer become more important than writing.

Every now and then, I start fretting and re-evaluating my blog, my writing, and whether any of this means anything. I'll get fascinated by those articles about platform building, and thinky, marketing advice about getting more hits, comments, and fans. I worry that I don't do enough, that I don't work hard enough or blog consistently enough or say anything interesting or useful enough. Then I say "screw it" and surf the Internet.

But really? When this happens, I've let being a writer trump writing. I let a title eclipse the purpose, the art.

In the end, none of us write for blog post hits, best sellers, or ad revenue. We don't write to go viral or build a so-called tribe. In the end, even the ones who succeed write because they must.

And that's the thing. I write because I must, because if only a few read it, that's better than keeping everything in my head. Because in some corner of my soul, I believe this is what I'm made for.

If I hope to be a "real" writer, sure I'll need a platform and such. But a writer, a real one, is one who writes.

Nothing more.

It's easy to get caught in the gears of the machine, but writing trumps being a writer. Every time.

"Don't be 'a writer.' Be writing." ~ William Faulkner

Call for Guest Posts: Deeper

Divinest Sense is going to be five years old in March. Can you believe it? Over 300 posts later I'm still at it, still learning what to do with this corner of the web. I'm so thankful for all of you who read this, leave comments, and take an interest... and now I want to hear from you!

One of my favorite abandoned ideas for this blog is Deeper, a series of posts celebrating art that moves us. Mostly, it was a chance to give myself permission to turn off the objective critic, embrace my inner fangirl, and geek out over books, films, and music that I love most. But honestly, who wants to only read about my favorite things? Not me!

So the floor is open... if you would like to write a guest post, I want to read it!

The details:
- A post of reasonable length on art that moves you.
- The subject can be as simple as a book or a song or as broad as an author's or musician's entire career.
- This is not an objective review, but a piece about something that has inspired or changed you. This is the book you discovered 10 years ago that's marked up and falling apart, the music you can't stop listening to, or the art that tells your story. I want to hear the totally biased fan-gushing you've always wanted to share.
- Quotes, videos, etc. are awesome and encouraged.
- Please include a 2-3 line bio (who you are and a link to any blog or website you have) and a photo. (of you or an image you want to represent you.) Or give me permission to troll your blog and write one for you. :)

Here is the Introduction explaining the idea behind this, and for examples, check out the series so far. Then e-mail me to work out the rest! -- jenwritesstuff (at) gmail (dot) com

Deeper returns in March... I can't wait to hear your stories and share the discoveries!

Photo Credit: "Music is My Religion" by [nati]

Opening Notes - January

Last month, I mentioned my crazy urge to document things and how it morphed into a music journal. The plan: to document every album I hear in 2012 and my first impressions. So far, I've kept it up, and confirmed two things...

1) I listen to way more new music than I thought.
2) I'll try anything if it's free. (Thanks Noisetrade.)

Amy suggested this would make a good blog feature, so hey, why not? Once a month, I'd like to highlight the standouts and share some glimpses into my Opening Notes journal. Here are a few of my January discoveries...


Paper Route - Absence

Genre: Chilled out, moody yet anthemic and occasionally danceable synthpop. Alternative electronic.
First Impressions: I'm annoyed I never listened to them before now! It's moody and atmospheric... not super hooky like the usual synth sound, but the sort that hangs out in the background until some cool sound or catchy refrain grabs your attention. Glad I found them in time for a new record!
Source: Noisetrade... get it free! (Includes a new single that reminds me of One Republic)



Audrey Assad - Heart

Genre: 70s inspired, piano-based songwriter pop with some classical and hymn-like influences.
First Impressions: It's like the Audrey record I've wanted since discovering "Winter Snow," a sound truer to her roots and personality... less produced, more lyrical, and simply lovely. Perhaps my first true favorite of 2012.
Source: Review copy. Check out audio samples and explore the art and videos at Audrey's website. Further thoughts to come in my review for JFH.


Jill Phillips - In This Hour

Genre: Shimmery songwriter pop with a folkish slant.
First Impressions: Oh, Jill. She is a criminally neglected Rabbit Roomer in my collection, but I do love her. Her 2011 record hits the mark of deeply personal, introspective writing that feels universal. She reflects on marriage, loss, family, and her role as a small-time artist (see "Next Big Thing") with style and grace. Reminds me a bit of Sara Groves' Invisible Empires. I'm only sorry I discovered this gem a little late...
Source: The Rabbit Room Store

Two Door Cinema Club - Tourist History

Genre: indie dance punk/electro-pop
First Impressions: I seem to remember somebody talking about them... maybe Lindsay? Regardless, the clips sounded good and worth risking 5 bucks. This Irish band's debut isn't delivering profundity, but it is undeniably fun, sounding sort of like a cross between Pheonix and Death Cab for Cutie. Like hipster indie music you can dance to.
Source: Amazon Mp3 (a $5 January Deal)


By the way.... Total New Albums in January: 15. Yep. Most of them were free. (Again, thanks Noisetrade. And occasionally Spotify.)

The Saturday Evening Blog Post: January 2012

A little self-promotion never hurt anybody, right? Today, I discovered The Saturday Evening Blog post via Alise... Write! On the first Saturday of the month, folks head on over to Elizabeth Esther's blog and share a link to a favorite post from the month. Fun!

So here's my first go at it...

Blogging was slight in January, unfortunately. Though most notable thing this month was probably my 3 part Awesome of the Year Music series (I never did books and concerts. Fail!), I'd say The R Word was a really helpful post for me to write. So far, non-resolution number 4 has been a success. I listened to 14 or 15 new albums last month. Seriously.

Care to join the fun? Hop on over to Elizabeth's blog and share your favorite post! And if you don't mind, drop a link in the handy comment box below so I can be sure to read it.

Happy February! I would say stay warm, but with a high of 81 here today, that's not a difficult suggestion.