wonder

Silence

~ Alina ~ 6 Comments

I wasn’t blogging last week because I was here.

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Sometimes life gets so full of noise that you can’t hear yourself, God, or anyone else. So last weekend, I did something I’d wanted to try for several years: a weekend retreat at a monastery.

I didn’t exactly plan on a silent retreat, and while the atmosphere wasn’t strictly silent for the four days I was there, talking/noise was definitely at a minimum, especially compared to what I’m used to here in the hectic, hyper-connected Silicon Valley.

At first the silence was challenging and awkward, especially when I realized the nuns and guests weren’t supposed to talk during mealtimes. There was a lot of chewing and silverware clinking. And the refrigerator droning.

But over that first hill of awkwardness, silence can be…amazing.

First all the yucky stuff from inside comes up; all the excess noise and stuffed-away thoughts. But then, like the calm that comes after a long, hard hike, better things begin to well up. Things like a quiet knowledge of the closeness of God. A sense of what’s right to do next in your life. And creativity. Lots of creativity.

You start to notice, really see, what’s around you—like the way morning dew condenses on pine needles and turns them silver.

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Or the way a clump of sun-rushed leaves looks like a bloom of butterflies.

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For the first time in a REALLY long time, I even stepped away from my camera shutter button and tried sketching some flowers by hand from the monastery garden. Unlike Ellie in my novel, I don’t have a natural talent for drawing, and I lack the patience to really practice and learn, but when you sketch a flower, you’re really forced to look at it and notice its details. You have to stop and sit with it, and teach your pencil to mimic its wild curves and shadows. In the absence of Photoshop, you notice the imperfections of real things in nature. But you also marvel at their complexity and wonder.

Monastery Sketch-Briar Rose

Silence doesn’t happen by accident, and it can be a costly challenge to flee from noise and face the first wave of unpleasant thoughts. But…beyond that…

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…silence can be truly breathtaking.

 

Spring Miracles

~ Alina ~ Leave a comment

I never can decide whether spring or fall is my favorite season. Both are beautiful, offering change and new directions, the beginnings of new roads and opportunities. 

But with spring outside, ready to touch, see, and smell, I’m feeling a bit swayed toward the beauty of this season.

It’s in the living buzz of the bees as they stuff their pockets with pollen.

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It’s in the scalloped edges of the new leaves, still sticky from their buds.

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It’s in the outrageous colors of the flowers, outdoing the imagination of any fashion designer.

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It’s in the unshorn grass, joyful to be alive and growing.

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It’s in the unfurling petals, reaching toward the sun.

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It’s the magic and mystery of the world coming back to life, of beauty and expectancy, of wonder even in the tiniest of vessels.

And so I pay attention.

Because each day is its own kind of miracle.

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Canyons

~ Alina ~ 4 Comments

Canyons are a bad idea.

As my family and I roadtripped around the American Southwest at the end of May, we saw a lot of them. They’re fissures in the earth, weird yawning abysses. I thought of Dante’s Inferno or C.S. Lewis’s The Great Divorce. In fact, it looks like I wasn’t the only one:

A sign from the Grand Canyon shuttle route

Canyon hiking is an especially bad idea. Besides the abnormal elevation at the rim, the increasing temperature as you descend, the arid landscape that sucks out your body moisture, the sheer drops at every turn, the risk of poisonous snakes and scorpions, possible claustrophobia, and rapidly changing weather conditions, you have to deal with this fact:

Down is optional, up is mandatory

Unlike with mountain hiking, in a canyon you hike downhill first, while you’re fresh. But you’d better hike to only about 1/3 of your energy–because then it’s twice as hard to come back up. When you’re already tired.

So canyon hiking is a really bad idea.

But…

…if we never took risks…

…if we never ran with an idea that might fail…

…if we never did anything just a little bit crazy…

…we’d miss out on this.

Bryce Canyon, Utah

And this.

Grand Canyon, Arizona

And this.

Antelope Canyon, Arizona

Sometimes risks aren’t worth the payoff. And of course you have to plan for them accordingly. But sometimes…maybe unexpectedly…risks can reveal life’s beauty.

Ever taken a risk that made you glad you did? 

First Rain

~ Alina ~ 10 Comments

On Wednesday morning, September 5th, it rained.

All right, laugh, my friends in the Pacific Northwest. Here in California, it doesn’t just rain all the time. It isn’t something to be taken for granted. And not just if you work for the Water Department.

This morning’s rain only lasted a few minutes, just barely wet the ground, but it was special. Have you ever really watched it rain before? It’s magical.

It’s the first silver puddles of the season.

It’s dusty dribbles on Baby’s windshield that make me glad I didn’t wash her yesterday.

It’s dark thunderheads gilded with bright edges by a sun that’s there, but that you can’t see.

It’s sharp contrasts in the sky and wet asphalt on the ground.

It’s a fine veil sewn all over with silver stitches.

It’s an eager rustle, like the crinkle of a safe blanket coming up to your chin, like the whisper of a fairy godmother’s skirts.

It’s a soft, growing smell, a smell of motion and of rising, a halfway dusty smell, like the pages of an old book.

And it’s a cool breeze blowing through your house, straight through open windows, sweeping away the stagnant heat of a long, hot summer. It’s ushering in something new, an anticipation of what may be.


Fall is just around the corner! What do you look forward to about this new season?


Flying Books

~ Alina ~ 1 Comment
Well, I’ve got my nose to the grindstone in the midst of book-writing, proofreading, and tutoring, so today this video is going to do the talking for me 🙂 
This animated movie, produced by Moonbot Studios, won the Academy Award for Best Short Film. It’s entitled The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore. Moonbot’s website describes it as “a love letter to books…about the curative power of story.” 
Interesting, because it’s wordless. 
Enjoy!

What do you think? How did you react to this film?

Cracks in the Floor

~ Alina ~ 2 Comments

Last Thursday I went hiking with one of my dearest friends. We have a favorite trail that takes us through four miles of hill country, but the highlight is the lake at the halfway point. Jade-green and hidden by hills until you’re almost on top of it, it’s always a spectacular sight, like a snippet of the Amazon in California.

This time, though, there was something extra-special about it. A whole flock of seagulls (inexplicably far from the sea) was camping out on the water. Then, as one body, the flock rose into the air, fluttering on wings that “gleam and dart,” as W.B. Yeats would have it. Moving like an airborne whirlpool, they formed a column of light and air over the lake. Something about that moment–the surprise sight of so many birds in an unexpected place, their movement in perfect unity, the way their half-translucent wings caught the light–was unspeakable. It was like a glimpse of the Old Testament’s pillar of cloud, the visible presence of God that guided the wandering Israelites through the desert.

The sight got me thinking about such moments, moments that jump the gap between heaven and earth. Life here isn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination. The road is peppered with suffering, unfairness, betrayal, fallings-short. But more than any rational argument or logical progression, it’s beautiful moments like these that make me certain that there is a God–a God of tenderness, breathtaking beauty, and an astounding imagination. C.S. Lewis called these moments “joy.” I like to think of them as cracks in the floor of heaven.

I caught sight of another one the weekend before. I spent the weekend in Seattle, driving down to the Portland area for the wedding of a former roommate and dear friend. Though there was a lot of preparation and clean-up work involved, when all the cheese cubes were arranged and the dozens of chairs unfolded, the wedding was beautiful. One of the things the bride and groom did during the ceremony was braid a three-stranded cord to symbolize the intertwining of their lives with each other and with God. Watching a friend step out in love and faith to make a decision that will last a lifetime, transforming before my eyes from an individual into a couple bound together for life was one of those moments that was piercing in its shock, its newness, and its beauty. 

That continued as they danced their first dance, sometimes uncertain in the steps, but completely oblivious as they rocked in their own world. Human love is one of those mysteries that leaves us curious, wondering, and feeling the eternal echoes reverberating within. Clearer even than a swirl of white birds over a hidden lake, it’s one of those things that stops us in our tracks and hushes our words. Those moments are enveloped in bubbles, untouched by the incompletenesses and disappointments life can bring. They make us pause, look up, and catch a glimpse of light sparkling through the cracks overhead.

What cracks in heaven’s floor have you caught sight of lately?