Talking Back: Of Art Pilgrimages and Rosaries

"If I could decide my own 'program' of spiritual practice, it would look like... [be honest, not compliant here]" she said in God in the Yard. (It was an open-response opportunity in Chapter 2.)

It feels mildly subversive to write, "My program would look like an art pilgrimage, tea-drinking outdoors, ballet, the rosary, and onions (yes, onions)."

For a long time I considered Scripture-reading to be the only real spiritual practice. Prayer was a close second, and I was careful to respond to Scripture in my journal by recording my prayers. Don't get me wrong. I love Scripture. And prayer is obviously a long-term aspect of a life of faith.

But there is something of the glory of God that cannot be found simply in words and in two dimensions. God is a universe wide (and wider). God created all that is around me. Each scent and color, each sound, each movement, potentially tells me something of God. Not as if these things ARE God. But they are God's expressions. If I believe Genesis, I must believe that.

So my spiritual practice looks unconventional: art, dance, slicing onions. But the thread that holds it together is the praise that arises when I touch these dimensions. It is the spiritual practice of the Creator himself in Genesis... that one that responds with whispers, or shouts, "It is good."

God also said, "It is not good," when he saw man alone. That too is spiritual practice... seeing the not-good, and opening our hands to fill the void.

In the end, my practice seems very simple. See, hear, touch the world, and respond.