advent apertures 2019: day 3

One morning

we will wake up

and forget to build

that wall we’ve been building,

the one between us

the one we’ve been building

for years, perhaps

out of some sense

of right and boundary,

perhaps out of habit.


One morning

we will wake up

and let our empty hands

hang empty at our sides.

Perhaps they will rise,

as empty things

sometimes do

when blown

by the wind.

Perhaps they simply

will not remember

how to grasp, how to rage.


We will wake up

that morning

and we will have

misplaced all our theories

about why and how

and who did what

to whom, we will have mislaid

all our timelines

of when and plans of what

and we will not scramble

to write the plans and theories anew.


On that morning,

not much else

will have changed.

Whatever is blooming

will still be in bloom.

Whatever is wilting

will wilt. There will be fields

to plow and trains

to load and children

to feed and work to do.

And in every moment,

in every action, we will

feel the urge to say thank you,

we will follow the urge to bow.


‘One Morning’

Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

(This poem is part of a poem-a-day practice found at A Hundred Falling Veils.)



The second morning after an encounter that might change my life, if I let it. 

Where do I start?

I go back to basics.  What did I learn as a child? I say “thank You”.  Even if a bit of me whispers quietly, “thank You, but …”; what is most important to me right now is to recognise that all around me is gift from the Giver. 

I want to say “this can be”; yet a “but” still hovers at the end of that sentence too.

What did I learn as a child? I say “Please”. 

“Please be with me.” 

“Please help me.”

“Please show me what I’m supposed to be doing now.”



The popular image of a mystic is of someone who spends a lot of time alone in solitary prayer, cut off from the distracting world. The mysticism of nature, however, is a gift for everyone in the audience!

The Pope says:
To sense each creature singing the hymn of its existence is to live joyfully in God’s love and hope. This contemplation of creation allows us to discover in each thing a teaching which God wishes to hand on to us, since for the believer; to contemplate creation is to hear a message, to listen to a paradoxical and silent voice (85, Laudato Si’)

To be a mystic, then you don’t have to be a person whose knees are wearing out – though God draws some hearts to that silent intimacy. All you have to do is to look long and lovingly at creation, and let it speak to your heart. Do this for a while today, and you will experience what it is like ‘to live joyfully in God’s love and hope’. Every garden is a divine schoolroom.

from Finding God in a Leaf :The Mysticism of Laudato Si (pp 23-24)

Brian Grogan SJ

look long and lovingly (bl)

look long and lovingly.  Canon 7D. f5.6. 1/41. ISO 3200.

Published by Kate Kennington Steer

writer, photographer and visual artist

One thought on “advent apertures 2019: day 3

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