From Walking on Water – Reflections on Faith and Art by Madeleine L’Engle:
“We write, we make music, we draw pictures, because we are listening for meaning, feeling for healing.”
“We are hurt; we are lonely; and we turn to music or words, and as compensation beyond all price we are given glimpses of the world on the other side of time and space.”
The experience Madeleine L’Engle describes is transcendence – the perception of what is above and beyond the limits of the material experience. To her, transcendence is the perception of true reality.
I have been reflecting on the connection between mindfulness, meaning, and transcendence.
To be mindful is to pay attention to the present moment, to be aware of its impermanence and significance and, as a result, become appreciative and thankful for each simple instant of life.
To those who perceive the spiritual as well as the material, mindfulness takes on a higher meaning. It’s still about awareness and appreciation for the present moment, but it’s also about listening to what God is saying through the experience. It’s about communion and transcendence.
We could describe mindfulness as a multilayered sensorial and spiritual experience.
Yesterday, a simple, yet extraordinary, sermon I heard at a church I was visiting for the first time, made me aware of the following:
Jesus is “I Am.” He exists in the present tense. Everlasting life in Jesus happens in the present moment.
Thus, mindfulness could also be defined as an awareness of eternal life.
So, by being mindful of the present moment, we become aware of the beauty, significance, and impermanence of the material world, and of the reality of our eternal, spiritual existence.
“We are meant to be real [transcendent], and to see and recognize the real [the spiritual as well as the material]. We are all more than we know, and that wondrous reality, that wholeness, holiness, is there for all of us.” (Madeleine L’Engle)
One way in which we can develop simple mindfulness is through reading and writing haiku. I recently wrote about haiku in my blog, The Write Town (www.thewritetown.wordpress.com):
Traditional haiku consist of 17 syllables arranged in a sequence of 5-7-5. They commonly contain
1- a sensory experience (the what),
2- a sense of place (the where), and
3- a sense of time (the when).
“Though brief, [haiku] tell a story or paint a vivid picture, leaving it to the reader to draw out the meanings and complete them in the mind’s eye. Haiku often contain a hidden dualism (near and far, then and now, etc.) and have a seasonal tie-in, as well as specific word-images that reveal deeper layers in each poem.” (From The Classic Tradition of Haiku — an Anthology, edited by Faubion Bowers)
By the way, the plural of haiku is haiku.
Here’s an example by the poet James Kirkup:
Haiku should be just
small stones dropping down a well
with a small splash
(A possible deeper layer of meaning: Should we strive to be like those small stones?)
“A fine haiku presents a crystalline moment of heightened awareness in simple imagery, traditionally using a kigo or season word from nature.” Patricia Donegan, Haiku Mind
Here are some of my attempts at haiku:
—
Summer morning stroll –
the coyote on the road
turned and looked at me.
—
The noon sun ignites
the colors of the lily.
The petals blind me.
—
Lovely butterfly,
stay and let me capture you
here on my paper.
—
I also write haiku that contain reflections (instead of descriptions) inspired by nature:
—
Go to the meadow.
Sit and watch the spring grass grow.
Patience – life takes time.
—
See the blue-green world;
question all its mysteries;
love its dark beauty.
—
We learn humbleness
in the troughs of stormy waves
between mountain swells.
—
I’ll end my post with this thought: Each present moment of life is both impermanent and eternal.
Catch a Butterfly 