I didn’t set out to create a philosophy of life when I started listening to the echo of smaller and deeper in my life. It was just an idea, a rumbling, a constant refrain, an invitation, a seed of a belief; it was persistent and palpable.
What if I listened to the refrain of my heart that smaller mattered more than the loud voices of the world that said bigger is better?
What if I quieted the invitation of consumption and believed that more than enough was enough?
What if instead of staying content on the surface, in the shallows, I waded deeper into the questions?
What if I rooted down in the place where I was instead of striving for the place and person that I’m not?
What would happen?
Smaller doesn’t mean less impact; just think of a single, tiny pebble in a shoe or a few stray grains of sand between toes after an afternoon at the beach.
Deeper doesn’t mean an extreme knowledge of one thing and only that thing. Shallow water doesn’t require much balance, knowledge, or care. I can wade carelessly and without thought into the shallow water and get wet; I can say I’ve been to the lake or the sea by dipping a toe into the water. But, have I experienced the sea in the shallows? Have I experienced the lake by standing at the edge? Deeper invites further, past the shallows, where the force and grace of the water persuade me to brace my legs, surrender to the waves, and experience the buoyancy and hidden knowledge that the lapping edge doesn’t contain.
Deeper doesn’t mean expertise, although it can.
Deeper is contemplation, “a long, loving look at the real,” as Walter Burghardt describes it. Deeper is pausing a beat or two longer than necessary to notice the light, the feeling, the hope, the fear. It’s a gentle bow to the unseen but felt sacredness that infuses and shines through the cracks, even in the most unexpected places.
Smaller and deeper together is my philosophy of life, it turns out.
Smaller and deeper invites me to hold small starts, small ideas, small moments, and small glimmers as sacred and vital for growth.
Smaller and deeper reminds me to look beyond the seen, beyond the shallows, to the animating energy, vitality, and knowledge found past the surface, past the quick glimpse.
Smaller and deeper is about noticing thresholds and pauses and tuning my ears to hear, my eyes to see, and my heart to know that music, waves, flowers, and words are made from the pauses, the white space between. It is the pause as much as the notes, petals, and letters that create the meaning.
Smaller and deeper invites me to purposefully engage in a more contemplative, reflective way with my culture, community, and the quotidian, unseen hours of my life. I’m reminded that nothing is unseen.
Small is how everything and everyone starts.
Deeper is a choice I can always make.
Will I be satisfied with how it is, or will I follow the questions, ideas, and inklings of hope that hide in plain sight daily?
A blessing…
May you listen to what your life is whispering, wishing, and asking to be lived. May the pauses of your days remind you to “take a long loving look at what is real.” May small ideas, wishes, hopes, and dreams be given the space to blossom and grow. May you step deeper into the flow.
“we all live in the world our questions create.”
-Warren Berger A More Beautiful Question
What if questions are creative questions that have the power to spark new ideas. What if questions ask us to consider unconsidered possibilities without limits and responsibility for outcomes. They are low-barrier, high-reward questions. I used what-if questions as the launching point for my essay this week. I was inspired by Mary Oliver’s poem, “How Would You Live Then.”
Consider jotting down 5 what-if questions for your own life.
What if I said yes to…
What if I said no to…
What if I tried to…
What if instead of…
Less is Lost by Andrew Sean Greer
A few months ago, I read Less; as soon as I finished it I pre-ordered the sequel, which was released earlier this month. Less is about Arthur Less, a mediocre writer traveling the world after his long-time boyfriend married another man. It was a delightful, quirky read. Less won the Pulitzer Prize, so more than a few people were worried that the follow-up book would not live up to the first. I’m not a literary judge, but I loved the story, I love the writing style (it’s very unique), and I think it picked up seamlessly from the first. Less is Lost is the story of Arthur Less taking a wacky, unexpected cross-country trip and all of the adventures that ensue. These are two fun, thoughtful-heart warming books that are joyful.
“It’s like asking a dung beetle if it’s worth it. Of course there’s a better way to be, of course there’s an easier life-one could be a leopard or a crocodile! But a dung beetle does do one thing well.”
-Andrew Sean Greer
Discernment: Reading the Signs of Daily Life by Henri J.M. Nouwen
It had been many years since I read a Nouwen book; I had this book on my shelf and pulled it off; I’m so glad I did. Nouwen’s books are so heartfelt, authentic, and true. This book is a compilation of his writings that were put together after he died by people who knew him well. It’s very well done and hard to tell that it wasn’t a book that he wrote. Re-visiting the thoughts and writings of Henri Nouwen has been like visiting an old friend.
“The most interesting things in life often remain invisible to our ordinary sense, yet are visible to our spiritual perception. In large measure they can very easily be overlooked by the inattentive, busily distracted person that each of us can so easily become.”
-Heni Nouwen Discernment: Reading the Signs of Daily Life
As always, read this following poem by Mary Oliver slowly, seeing what words shimmer and sparkle. Is there an invitation for you to carry as you live the days of your week?
How Would You Live Then?
Mary OliverWhat if a hundred rose-breasted grosbeaks
flew in circles around your head? What if
the mockingbird came into the house with you and
became your advisor? What if
the bees filled your walls with honey and all
you needed to do was ask them and they would fill
the bowl? What if the brook slid downhill just
past your bedroom window so you could listen
to its slow prayers as you fell asleep? What if
the stars began to shout their names, or to run
this way and that way above the clouds? What if
you painted a picture of a tree, and the leaves
began to rustle, and a bird cheerfully sang
from its painted branches? What if you suddenly saw
that the silver of water was brighter than the silver
of money? What if you finally saw
that the sunflowers, turning toward the sun all day
and every day – who knows how, but they do it – were
more precious, more meaningful than gold?