fabric of my days

| November 28, 2017 | 6 Replies

Let’s say my time is fabric.

Sometimes I am the scarf draped over the small altar where I sit for centering prayer. The scarf is a gift from Jess, a friend I’ve known since I was two. The scarf is rarely disturbed, and then only by the cat on his way to the windowsill. A creature purring insistently enough has full license to interrupt my meditation.

At times I am the cozy, colorful patchwork of writing and reading and inhaling my favorite scented candle. I bought this quilt for my own self in a lavishly beautiful mercantile shop in Philly.

At times I’m the gorgeous runner our friend Mary Anne gave us. It repels liquid, so it looks good even when it’s been on the table for weeks. I aspire to that sort of work-a-day beauty. Crumbs aren’t a problem. The space is both sacred and quotidian.

Some moments are important and yet ignored. Some moments are handkerchiefs or napkins. Some moments are curtains framing the day.

What about the hours when I’m at the beach, fluttering in the wind?

The time could very well blow away – I might hardly notice my own joy – unless I hold tight to the corners, unless I plant myself down for a while.

My favorite time is when I am a flag: free and wild, yet securely tethered. I’m sailing in the wind of Spirit, wide open.

I’m resting in my own elegance.

I am the child of the wind, aren’t I? Still, I’d never claim the wind as my own.

Whether I’m half-mast or flying high, I stand for something. Even when I am weathered, I carry meaning. May I offer it with no expectation of being saluted or even noticed. May the meaning be true.

Category: beauty, creating, journey, love, outside

Hannah Lynn Mell

About the Author ()

Hannah Lynn Mell grew up a missionary kid in Kailua-Kona, Hawaii. Now she lives in Rowley, Massachusetts with her exquisitely kind husband David, their plucky three-legged cat Thomas, and a needy-yet-lovable dachshund named Birdie. She's worked with singers since 1998 and loves to help people of all ages free their voices.

Comments (6)

Trackback URL | Comments RSS Feed

  1. Nancy Hartsock says:

    I love how you close: “Even when I am weathered, I carry meaning. May I offer it (the meaning – the gift of you) with no expectation of being saluted or even noticed. May the meaning be true.”…are you talking about the freedom of not needing to be dependent on the “salute” of others? (This idea reminds me of St. Francis’ prayer: “grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, to be loved as to love”…)

    You seem to be saying you are content to use the fabric of your life/time sitting still and/or flying in the wind of Spirit, with the meaning you carry within (like a treasure in an earthen vessel)…in all kinds of moments “both sacred and quotidian”. Love you.

    • Thank you for your beautiful reflection, Nancy. (I want to read your blog if/when you make one!)

      My beloved high school English teacher Mr. Mullen used to introduce a philosophy to us and then say, “run that up a flagpole and see if anyone salutes it.” I loved that phrase of his, though I hadn’t thought about it before your question!

      I’m definitely reminding myself that a flag is a flag even if nobody salutes it. St. Francis’ prayer is one of my heart’s most earnest cries. As a performer, I’m used to looking and listening for acknowledgment and approval. I’m learning ever so gradually to let go of that impulse and rest in the grace of knowing that I’ve never needed to do anything to earn the grace that is my heart’s true home.

      I love you too!

  2. Mama says:

    I am resting in these words; beloved daughter, precious sister……

  3. I think there may be a kite metaphor in here too somewhere…
    Be Well.
    Doug

Leave a Reply