Voice of Nature

Nature’s Voice

“Happy are those who do not follow the advice of the wicked...

They are like trees planted by streams of water; which yield their fruit in its season, and their leaves do not wither.”—Psalm 1: 1, 3.

I remember watching the rain come across the lake at Whitefish. As it reaches our shore on a gentle breeze, the small leaves of the willows and aspen trees move back and forth, producing a unique swishing sound. The vibrations caused by the wind and the rain on the fluttering leaves sound like a message from the trees, the wind, and the rain.

 Is it a cry for help? Are these the sound of Nature’s tears? I don’t believe it is a thank you for how we have cared for our natural world.  

There is also a smell that comes with the sound of rain. It has been called earthy. It is thought to be the smell that comes as the rain moves the earth. Is it the fragrant perfume of the earth calling and enticing us to come and get to know it better and care for it?

Almost every person I talk with affirms their feeling of God’s presence when they are outside in the natural world. The trees, the sun, the moon, the rain, the flowers, the animals, the mountains, the sea, and the earth are healers. They are mood changers. It is difficult not to be grateful looking across a peaceful lake in the cool mountain air and watching a mother duck care for and gather her eighteen ducklings as the rain stops. But, she also makes a distinctive sound, maybe telling her ducklings that there is still danger when we are around. 

We are called to care for our churches and places of worship where we experience God. We are called to care for our friends, who teach us about the love of God. We are likewise called to care for the natural world, which always calls us back to the Creator God.

Joanna https://www.joannaseibert.com/

benedictine Life

Benedictine Life

“Listen my child with the ear of your heart.”—Prologue of Rule of Benedict

 I keep returning to the Rule of Benedict. “Listen with the ear of your heart” is in the first line of the prologue to the Rule of Benedict, a pattern of living in community written by St. Benedict of Nursia in the sixth century during the Dark Ages and is still used by Benedictines fifteen centuries later.

The rule is a balanced model of life, a radical alternative to an out-of-control culture. It was written for monastic life, but it has been translated to a way of life for any seeking a pattern of spiritual discipline for living a rule of life in the world. The day is organized around regular periods of private and communal prayer, sleep, work, recreation, hospitality, and study.

Joan Chitister’s book, The Rule of Benedict, a Spirituality for the 21st Century, is used by the Community of Hope International, a program equipping and supporting lay pastoral caregivers to be ministers to all conditions of people needing pastoral care. The Community of Hope International emphasizes developing skills and spiritual practices, immersing ministers in Benedictine spirituality in community. Chitister’s book can be used privately or in group discussions of the rule. She writes a thoughtful meditation and interpretation after each selected part of the rule, which can be read in daily segments.

 A busy Memphis lawyer, John McQuiston, has written another concise modern interpretation of the Rule of Benedict called Always We Begin Again. It is pocket-sized and easily carried with you during the day.

A third book is Spirituality for Everyday Living, an Adaptation of the Rule of St. Benedict by Brian Taylor. This is another offering to help those not living in a monastery experience Benedict’s rule of obedience and stability in relationships with others. This is living in the balanced tension of the paradox of turning our lives over to a higher power but trying to stay in relationship with others, not staying stagnant, but being able to change and grow.

Esther de Waal names it in the title of her book of reflections or meditations on Benedict’s Rule, Living with Contradiction. Esther de Waal also gives us in To Pause at the Threshold numerous Benedictine and Celtic reflections and prayers to practice when we cross the threshold of a door going from one room to another. She invites us to say a short prayer, trying to leave behind the “baggage” in our heads and being open to a new experience. This can be helpful when visiting the sick or homebound as we enter their hospital room or front door.  

 There are so many other books on Benedictine spirituality, but these five have made a difference in my life, and I give the ones I give to people seeking a more patterned or spiritual rule of life. Again, I would love to hear from you about the books on Benedictine spirituality that have made a difference in your life.

Joanna       https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Art of Not-Knowing

Guest Writer: Ken Fellows

Art of Not-Knowing

Iris Uncertainty Fellows

      In mid-1970, I began my career as an academic Pediatric Radiologist. With several other American radiologists back then, I helped pioneer a new sub-specialty, Pediatric Interventional Radiology. That endeavor was made possible by an explosive improvement in X-ray imaging. A new device –the image-intensifier –allowed especially clear fluoroscopic (real time) visualization of inner-human anatomy.

It was soon accompanied by other revolutionary imaging techniques, such as ultrasound (US), computed tomography (CT), and magnetic resonance imaging (MRI). All these provided new and extraordinarily precise imaging of the circulatory system, the heart, brain, and most other organs. Using this new imaging, interventional radiologists were able to insert local anesthesia, thin catheters, and other small devices into patients through needles (not incisions) to perform therapeutic procedures. No general anesthesia is needed –just sedation of the patient.  

     Using these devices, interventional radiologists began treating problems such as plugging bleeding vessels, closing holes in hearts, opening obstructed arteries and veins, doing biopsies, and draining abscesses, cysts, and other loculated fluids. The past 50 years have seen a vast expansion of these interventional techniques. I performed those procedures for the first 30 of those years.

     Following my retirement from radiology practice 23 years ago, I happened into a ‘second act’ as a watercolor painter and a memoir writer. I’ve sometimes wondered if any common thread exists between these very different eras of my life … any connection between doing interventional procedures and art, and the ‘uncertainty of outcome’ common to both?  

    Pondering this question in my aged rodent brain, a possible connection was suggested recently in the book Emergency Medicine by Jay Baruch, MD. In it, he describes his difficulty in discerning from some patients’ rambling histories and vague symptoms what the actual underlying problem is. He explains how this is a doctor’s challenge not usually addressed in medical training –this not-knowing –a circumstance so antithetical to medical practice.

     Dr. Baruch attributes the concept of not-knowing to a dated but still famous essay in which David Barthelme describes the act of writing, and the creative arts in general, as a process of dealing with not-knowing. Barthelme states, “The writer (artist) is someone who, when embarking upon a messy task, doesn’t know what to do.” He adds, “Problems are crucial to not-knowing, and not-knowing is crucial to art.” The essay opines, “Writing is a process of dealing with not-knowing, and that not-knowing is hedged about with prohibitions, with roads that may not be taken.” To this, Jay Baruch adds: “In any process of inquiry, our uncertainty is our ally.” I, in turn, propose that the ability to welcome uncertainty is often a critical part of being a doctor. Perhaps this idea is the connection I’ve been seeking between writing, painting, and performing interventional procedures.

       Whether a writer, painter, or doctor, problems causing uncertainty are usually most formidable when beginning an undertaking. The problems are generally a matter of ideas, imagination, or technique. For surgeons and interventionalists, clinical problems typically have either a traditional, patented solution or require an innovative approach, a new maneuver that needs to be created. Even during routine procedures, unforeseen complications and anatomic aberrations arise that require spontaneous and imaginative corrective action. For doctors, problems of selecting the best approaches to healing are the foundation of their uncertainty and not-knowing.

     In summary, not-knowing is a mental state common to making art and literature. Similar uncertainty often characterizes medical sleuthing, surgery, and interventional endeavors. Expanding the idea, I suspect this inherent doubting is not limited to art and medicine, but exists in many other fields. In various walks of life, uncertainty often enhances performance, fosters progress, and creates innovation. 

Ken Fellows

Joanna https://www.joannaseibert.com/