“Ultimately what St. Francis was living out was a profoundly incarnational spirituality, which demands that we look at the world differently. It means that everything in our lives is alive with the sacred presence if only we commit ourselves to seeing anew.” (Christine Painter)

“Spiritual joy is an inherent inner aliveness. Joy is almost entirely an inside job. Joy is not first determined by the object enjoyed as much as by the prepared eye of the enjoyer.” (Richard Rohr)

After reading and listening to these reflections, I walked this morning with the desire to explore with fresh eyes the natural rhythm of receiving and releasing. It dawned on me that joy, too, can be both received and released. I saw caps of acorns still attached to oak branches, while the acorns were strewn on the ground below. Bees, butterflies and dragonflies alighted on flowers; mallards skidded onto the pond and took off again; a fox squirrel jumped into the arms of a live oak; a shrub accepted a fallen limb—all, a dynamic relationship of receiving and releasing. We cannot capture joy, but we can open to it, receiving, savoring and releasing, moment by moment.

Photo and reflection by Amy W. (September 24th Walking in Wonder at Brookgreen)

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All the things we cannot see that can be revealed when we look at it another way. On our recent walk in Brookgreen I was enjoying the light of October. There is nothing like the October sunlight that embraces all things with its golden glow and cast of shadows. I thought to take a phone picture of this play of light and shadow and water but when I looked at the result something else was revealed. The rainbows of light that my eyes did not see but that the lens revealed. I wonder what else I do not see, in nature and in the people around me, the beauty unrevealed but awaiting discovery.

Photo and reflection by Sandy M.

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As I set my intention for the walk today, the essence of a quote I recently read from Mother Teresa popped into my mind: “One of the realities we are all called to go through is to move from repulsion to compassion and from compassion to wonderment. …Wonderment in the face of other is a beautifully exacting progression from mere tolerance.”

I walked down a still muddy but no longer flooded path and saw the dock jarred sideways from the hurricane winds. My first thought was, “Aw, what a shame,” and I felt sad seeing all the tree damage in the area around me. I looked closer at the upturned dock, and there on the tallest part of the wooden frame stood a huge grey heron seeming to enjoy a new vantage point. I felt that move from repulsion to wonderment. And again when I saw raw spaces on trunks where limbs were once held. On the limbs remaining, squadrons of chatty birds commented on the glorious sky. As I headed back, another heron walked the flooded nature trail, closed to garden visitors, lifting its legs high, as if gloating, as it trekked along what looked like a new marsh inlet. Then I found the heart. One tree over the years had grown a scar around its missing limb. The image was magical, inspiring, real.

Photos and reflection by Amy W. 

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Looking at the Moon– Photo by Nancy B.

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I began my walk focused on gratitude and healing… As I walked toward the boat dock the significant flooding from Hurricane Matthew was still evident with the swollen marsh and river waters. Two things immediately struck me — the gently swirling and rippling patterns on the water, and the soothing but steady breeze. They spoke to me of healing… releasing… washing over… And so I thought, the water and wind, now gentle signs of healing, had been powerful agents of destruction and fear only a few short days before. 

Photo and reflection by Nancy L.