Practicing Personal Resurrection
One of my contemplative practices in late spring is to observe the sure progression of buds on the trees near my house from, small green shoots on branches to fresh, full-blown leaves. Yor have to be faithful to this daily practice or else you’ll miss the whole process. Some trees like the redbuds bloom early and briefly, others, like locusts hold on a bit longer to their bare branches.
This all transpires during the post-Easter season when we reflect on Jesus’ victory over death and the promise of new life. These days, all of nature is experiencing a daily resurrection. The wild violets, buttercups and yellow-capped dandelions popping up on my lawn shout of new life. The cherry blossom trees, among my most favorite, allow just a short life span for their velvet pink blooms — reminding us as well of the impermanence of beauty and of life.
Then there are the birds. Here in the Midwest, that means the return of redwing blackbirds, sandhill cranes, Canada geese and more. Gazing on all this new life unfolding, I often feel sorry for my friends who live in the earth’s southern hemisphere where the natural world is just beginning its slow descent into winter.
By contrast, what we see in our part of the world is a glorious tableau to help us recall our own capacity for personal resurrection. What is the new life we want to nurture within ourselves? What is calling us to personal resurrection?
My friend Sister Jennifer Halling of Mount St. Scholastica recently sent me a lovely essay by the spirituality author Christine Valters Paintner on the spirit of resurrection. Christine sets out a series of daily practices that she suggests for this Easter time of year. I wanted to share them with you as I think many are certainly worth following:
· Make a commitment to move slowly through the world, resisting the demand for speed and productivity that is tearing our bodies apart and wearing them down to exhaustion.
· Pause regularly. Breathe deeply. Reject multitasking. Savor one thing in this moment right now. Discover a portal into joy and delight in your body through fragrance, texture, shimmering light, song, or sweetness.
• Let yourself experience grief for the vulnerabilities of your body. Be exquisitely tender with yourself and all of the aches and pains and limitations of embodied life. Make a space within to welcome in the sorrow of difficult memories.
· Any time you begin to hear the old voices of judgment rise up about your body — whether self-consciousness or criticism or denial — pause and breathe. Then stand firm against those voices, as the desert elders counseled us to do, and tell them you will not offer them sanctuary anymore.
· Play some music you love, and dance. Be present to the body’s desires in response. Perhaps just a finger tapping at first. Then slowly let the impulse travel up your arm and across your chest, taking root in your heart, so that your dance might emerge from this place. Even just imagining yourself dancing can bring you alive.
· Every day, at least once, say thank you for the gift of being alive. Every day, at least once, remember the One who crafted you and exclaimed, “That is so very good.”
· Allow a day to follow the rhythms of your body. Notice when you are tired, and sleep. When you are hungry, eat. When your energy feels stagnant, go for a long walk. In truth, it often takes several days to sink into this kind of attunement, but begin to consider how you might invite this awareness into your daily life.
As a chronic workaholic several of these practices are not only speak to me, they shout out to me! That last one reminds me of the advice for a happy life my very practical father gave me when I was young, “When you’re hungry you eat, when you’re tired, you sleep.”
Which of these resurrection practices speak to you? This week, how can we become more attuned to the urgings of resurrection in both our surroundings, our bodies and our spirit?
