Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Slice writing

I've been doing 'slice writing' for a couple months. I call it that because whenever I am, whatever I'm doing, I write anything and everything that I can describe around me, all the sights, sounds, smells, feelings, and everything that I am experiencing in that one moment. I try and bring God into every slice, where I can see Him, feel Him, know Him. It is refreshing and inspiring to enjoy each moment, each slice, as a passing landmark in my life that will never be repeated.

A slice from retreat:

Sunday morning. I’m only half awake, but I am awake. Light dawns on a weary world. The morning shadows are shortening, and everything points to a beautiful day. I’m here in the outside, and you are here also. The sun is rising to the right. It forces me to squint my eyes, just enough to give everything a beautiful haze. Low clouds of fog are rolling quickly across the hills in front of us. The dew lifts in one misty layer, a lowered cloud, just enough to tickle my face.

It is October. It isn’t cold, but certainly not warm, except where the sun is hitting us directly. The barns are in the valley, white and standing tall and firm. The grass is drenched with dew and the rainfall from the past few days. It appears as if each blade is being baptized. Then, a breeze makes the open field look as if every single sprig is shaking, dancing to a silent song of divine orchestration. They seem to be wiggling with joy and delight. They are excited to see Sunday morning come. They know of its importance. It is a celebration, and all of creation is screaming it out. If you take the time to listen, it can be quite overwhelming. It can hurt your ears.

Everything looks and feels so alive. The earth feels like she is breathing. I hear a bird’s melody, then again, over and over. There are many birds. They are crying out in praise you created. The birds have known these songs since their inception. A dog barks in the distance. The fall leaves scatter on the ground, and the forest covering the hills are a painted mosaic of green, orange, red, yellow, and brown dots. The birds now take to flight. They are about their business. The earth is awake. You woke her up. She smiles, seeing another day. You are about your business, too.