We learn in many ways, by doing, by seeing, by listening, by moving.
I like to walk, and have in the past written poems and sermons as I’ve walked. I learn stories for telling best when I stand and let my body move. I learned for a Greek exam by rehearsing the stories in Greek and English while riding a bike.
I can’t go for walks these days: yep, Chronic Fatigue again. I swim, and sometimes I find understanding as I move through the water, of a problem or a story. The rhythm is calming, meditative; being in water gives me joy; the warmth of the water is healing and therapeutic. So I am present, attentive, and connecting to life.
The meditative rhythm of cross stitch is calming, brings me deeper into myself, and thus closer to Holy One. It connects me to loved ones when, as now, the piece I’m creating is for another (perhaps I do gift giving after all); and because I’m listening to Stephen Fry read the Harry Potter novels, the joy of which I share with various family members.
You’ll not be surprised, I think, to discover I also learn by reading. Some reading gifts of this season include:
by Julia Baird. In which she illuminates signs and practices of hope for dark times. I wrote a poem
in response and gratitude.
by Joel McKerrow. A poet, Joel tells his story of faith, of finding his own expression of Christian spirituality that is authentic and life-giving.
by Ellis Peters. I do enjoy (not all, but some) stories of clergy or monastic characters. I find I resonate with those whose sense of God is generous, kind, broad; who are committed to justice and love; who are committed to nurturing community and connection to the Sacred. Story is a more profound invitation to ‘theology’ than systematics and philosophy, for me.
How are you encountering God through your senses and the ways you love and learn?
How will you tell and show the hope such encounters nurture within you, a witness to the Holy, an invitation to others to find hope?