Spiritual Direction: Waypoints & Owl Trees
When I’m with someone for Spiritual Direction, I like to use a rhythm similar to what follows. I’ll start with a poem or a picture to invite them into spiritual direction, a time set aside from the hustle of life to reflect and listen. I’m using this pattern as I explore this year how the quotidian moments, the highly ordinary events, are infused and animated by the sacred.
Setting the Scene: What Is Being Brought For Spiritual Direction.
I’ve been working through Julia Cameron's Seeking Wisdom: A Spiritual Path to Creative Connection (yes, The Artist’s Way Julia Cameron). As she suggests, I have been writing my prayers in a Q&A form at the start of most days. I ask for guidance, and write the answer. Recently an answer I gotted down was: “Be watchful.”
A few hours later, those words felt like something a bit more than my hopeful inner dialogue.
Being watchful on my daily walk resulted in a few surprises.
The first surprise was the realization the owl in the tree between my house and the creek hadn’t been watching the ground for hunting opportunities (as I had assumed the past few days). She is mothering three owlets perched precariously in the crook of the tree. Baby owls in almost my backyard! It was the best watchful surprise. I love baby owls.
The second surprise was less fun. When I came around the corner where my favorite and well-established owl tree is (was), it was gone! Sometime in the twenty-four hours previous, it crashed to the ground in a way I couldn’t immediately see from how I had come. This is a tree with a hole at the top where I’ve watched at least three generations of owlets grow. It’s my favorite place to pause on my daily walks. There are always owls around, and just last week, I noticed little faces peering out of the top of the tree! Another generation of owls being raised in the owl tree.
With the tree gone, I was seized by a moment of disorientation. I looked around, thinking maybe I had misplaced myself on my walk.
I was at the right place.
The rotted roots of the diseased and dead tree finally gave way, crashing to the ground.
I spotted the mama owl calmly perched in her typical tree across from where I’d seen other owl mamas before her, keeping a watchful eye. With great trepidation, I made my way to the top of the fallen tree, worried about what I might find. No owlets. A half-eaten mouse was the only telltale sign of the owlet nursery the tree had been.
Let Your Soul Arrive: Pausing to Reflect.
“Every experience, every thought, every word, every person in your life is a part of a larger picture of your growth. That’s why I call them crumbs. They are not the whole loaf, but they can be nourishing if you give them your real presence. Let everything energize you. Let everything bless you. Even your limping can bless you.”
-Macrina Wiederkehr in A Tree Full of Angels
Spiritual Direction Question: How is your soul moved?
The owl tree has been a waypoint on my daily walk for years. I knew it was dead and hollow. A few months ago, all the bark sheared off. The tree has been diseased for many years, yet it was a nursery for at least six owlets that I know of and probably many more.
The disorientation I felt as I turned the corner and didn’t spot my waypoint was real.
It’s stirring up questions like:
What are other important waypoints in my life?
How does something become a waypoint for me?
Do I need to push down any other waypoints?
Given the loss of this waypoint, is there another waypoint that will take its place?
What does the loss of this single tree teach me about the interconnectedness between humanity and nature?
Spiritual Direction: What is the invitation or practice?
According to NationalGeographic.com, a waypoint is a “reference point that helps us know where we are and where we are going.”1 It is large, immovable, noticeable, and easy to distinguish.
My owl tree was tall, past its prime, but still standing. It had a large hole near the top, perfect for raising owlets. In shape, size, and stature, it stood out from the other trees. It was a waypoint I looked for every day I walked along the creek.
With the loss of this waypoint, my invitation is to notice other waypoints in my life—physical waypoints like the tree and, perhaps more importantly, spiritual waypoints as well.
Waypoints are consistent, and yet even in nature, trees fall down, and rock structures crumble, and rivers find new paths. Today’s waypoint might differ from a waypoint in five years, ten years, or beyond. Waypoints shift, and that’s okay. The invitation is to notice and to find new waypoints moving forward.
Some Questions to Consider:
Notice your own waypoints, the landmarks that you consciously or unconsciously notice on your daily rounds.
What do they signify for you? What are they pointing you towards?
Consider a waypoint that you’ve lost over time. What did that loss mean to you? What did you replace it with?
What are the spiritual waypoints in your life, the readings, the ideas, the inklings that help you know where you are going?
“What you encounter, recognize or discover depends to a large degree on the quality of your approach. Many of the ancient cultures practiced careful rituals of approach. An encounter of depth and spirit was preceded by careful preparation.
When we approach with reverence, great things decide to approach us. Our real life comes to the surface and its light awakens the concealed beauty in things. When we walk on the earth with reverence, beauty will decide to trust us. The rushed heart and arrogant mind lack the gentleness and patience to enter that embrace.”
― John O'Donohue, Beauty: The Invisible Embrace
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