Spirituality in Calligraphy

All last week, I facilitated a group using Ruth Haley Barton's Sacred Rhythms. It's a book on spiritual practice.

Going into the experience, I didn't expect to learn anything new— hubris, I know! One of the best things though? The group was attended by three Chinese-speaking participants. This made for a lot of interesting conversation regarding language and cultural perspectives. My favorite conversation revolved around Chinese calligraphy.

We'd gotten into a discussion about loving one's neighbor. I can hardly understand how to do that! one person said. Suddenly, I got this thought. Lucy, can you write 'neighbor' for us in Chinese? Lucy obliged (see pic above). Then I asked her to explain the component pictures contained in the character. Fascinating...

sunset... cow... rice... ear... mummy... ancient

This led us to consider that being a neighbor is something one does all day long, from birth to death, sharing our milk and our meat, our grain and our sympathy. And we listen. Because this is, from ancient times far into the future, part of the beauty of human relationship.

All this reminded me of something Tod Bolsinger says in It Takes a Church to Raise a Christian, ...Christian community is not just about neighborliness...nor is it just about proximity...It's not just about being friends or living in the same housing development. It's about sharing more than a cup of sugar and the lawn mower: sharing core values and a vision for living. (p.24)

I do believe that the Chinese character for neighbor contains some of this deeper spiritual aspect, in a way that is particularly memorable and enchanting. Which reminds me that perhaps when I've come to the dangerous place of thinking there's nothing much I'm going to learn in a certain arena, I need to get outside myself... cross culture or gender or age or status boundaries... so I can hear something unexpectedly beautiful, new.


Chinese Calligraphy photo, by L.L. Barkat.

STONE CROSSINGS:

Nancy's Awesome Picture of SC
Ted's book club post Lava Rock: Witness

LL and Lauren (But not Jim) at Laity Lodge

Last week I went to Texas. For the very first time in my life. It was... beautiful. I went to Laity Lodge for a retreat. To hear Lauren Winner and Tod Bolsinger. Wow. (Photo of Lauren and I below. Do you dig that tattoo she got when she was only 15 years old?)



When I stepped out of the shuttle, onto the Laity grounds, the first thing I noticed was the weight of the sun. It seemed it might press me into the copper colored gravel. The second thing I noticed was the silence. It too had a weight. Like a silken blanket on my skin and over my senses. I was utterly taken.

The week before I went to Laity, I discovered that Jim Martin was going to be there too. From Monday to Wednesday. I was coming Thursday to Sunday. Sigh. But we decided to both write a piece on some stone stairs I thought I'd seen in a picture of Laity. We would post our respective pieces. (Rumor has it that Marcus Goodyear might also post such a piece.) I don't know if I found the right stairs. But here they are...



And here is the little piece I composed...

Morning, the last day. A stillness here. I witness canyon walls... striated grey, cream, mountain-Laurel flecked. Everywhere, things clinging to edges... yucca, purple-budded prickly pear, cedars in miniature. Water flows, ripples, catches new light. I close my eyes, hear the ascending and descending of a bird's 'too, too, too, too, too, too.' The air is barely tinged with chalky earthen fragrance. I witness all this through senses open, full, longing. Or does it witness me... morning, the last day, clinging to this edge?

RELATED:

Tod Bolsinger's Basking and Connecting at Laity Lodge

Marcus Goodyear's Rush Out to Nature, Rush Back to Work

Jim Martin's Days at the Quiet House

A prayer inspired by the canyon, the birds... Hand, at LL's Love Notes to Yahweh


LL ELSEWHERE THIS WEEK:

Why I Became a Vegetarian, at TCW Magazine


STONE CROSSINGS:

Ted's book club post Forest Star: Humility

Laity Lodge photos by L.L. Barkat.