The Wild Earth

simplicity // 30
the Wild Earth

John O’Donohue warns us against becoming too “self-enclosed”, which is a lovely, if challenging, phrase.

“When we domesticate our minds and hearts, we reduce our lives,” he writes. [Anyone for a skinny latté?.] “Almost without knowing it, we slip inside ready-made roles and routines which then set the frames of our possibilities...”

And yet, all the while, “almost unknown to ourselves,” he writes - even as we conform to type, or go through the motions – “we are standing on wild earth at a crossroads in time where anything can come towards us.” Holy ground, if we did but know it. Moses took off his sandals when he found where he was standing. What might we do?

It’s easy to forget that underneath the parquet flooring of our lives, lies wild earth. Jesus knew it, and stood himself within that wild-ness for 40 days. Disconnected. Reconnected. And when we dare to remove ourselves somehow, our soul, too, will stir; after all, it is, beneath the protective layers, original, wild and blessed.

That’s why periods such as this, during Lent, are invaluable. It’s a time when – through giving things up, or reflecting more deeply, or doing things differently - we loosen our grip on “domestication” as O’Donohue calls it: on business as usual, on the same old routines, on our limiting expectations, on religious dogma, on presuppositions, on stupefying comforts, and on the luxuries that make our reduced existence seem a little more excusable and palatable in the end.

So press on! Not long, now. Time to make the most of it.

To breathe again.
To live again.
To be born again?

Wild.

* * *

Action point:

Try to identify one thing you do within a typical day which has made you “self-enclosed”, and has “reduced your life”. It might involve a role you play or a routine you have; anything that you sense stops you living more fully. What is stopping you from removing it from your life, or changing your routine?

Alternatively, try to get outside again today, and spend five minutes or more reflecting on the ground beneath your feet. You might say a few times over in your head, ‘This is holy ground. I am standing on wild earth.’”


* * *

rsvp:

“Saw my first butterfly yesterday while walking along the river enjoying the sunshine - didn't realise its significance until I read this. Thank you.” Gill

“I spend each Monday in prison as a volunteer providing bereavement support. I didn't read today's message until I got home, but I had to smile when I did. A young man had asked for help to come to terms with the loss of his partner and baby daughter - an accident caused by a drunk driver - some 10 years previously. He was extremely anxious about actually doing it, but had taken the plunge nonetheless and kept going despite the difficulties. When I met him today he was full of smiles and so different from the young man I first met. He told me how he'd been reflecting on his life over the past 10 years and how he'd come to understand a lot about himself. But the best thing was that he'd already started to put into place some measures to mend some of the hurt he'd caused, especially to his Mum. We shared his joy and I said that if I'd had a gold star I would have stuck it on him - which made us laugh all the more!” Ann

“Some years back, I received a picture of my life, as a small, brown earthenware jar. The jar was broken into pieces in front of me; I was in pieces. Then, I saw the jar put back together. There were cracks and fault lines all over it. It was no longer the 'whole' jar, but it was whole, none the less. The jar was then filled with the best oil; a thick, rich olive oil. I expected it to spill over the top. However, the tone of the jar darkened from the bottom upwards as the oil saturated the jar itself. Only then did it start to fill the jar, and as it did, the oil began to leak through the cracks... it ran out from and began to soak into the surroundings, too. I was struck by two things: First, I have to wait, and be soaked. Only then can I truly affect the world around me - through 'my faults, my cracks, my fracture lines'. And here's the beautiful, humbling bit: it's through those faults and cracks that the impact is made. Through the fault-lines of my pains, hurts and bereaved spirit I can draw alongside others and allow the Balm of Gilead that has so comforted, soothed and healed me to help a fellow traveller on this journey through life.” Stuart


* * *

May you know where you stand, today.
Go well!

Brian