Light of the sort only available on the shortening days of late November is my companion as I walk the perimeter of the prairie, spent milkweed and fallen leaves blowing around in the gusts that kick up now and then. I’ve just come from time spent with the ancestors in the cemetery to the north and east, and it’s like the land and those who have come before keep my footsteps company as I add another presence to the tapestry of this little spot on the earth. Humanity bustles about, cars and the hum of heavy construction equipment buzz in the background. I also hear birds calling, grasses murmuring, and the kind of silence that’s present among gravestones and old pines. I pick up a huge leaf and imagine all the seasons the tree from which it came has witnessed over the years.
I spent this past weekend in Dubuque, Iowa, a town situated on the sprawling banks of the Mississippi River. My home base was Shalom Spirituality Center, “a sacred space and a peaceful environment for all who seek to deepen their relationship with God, self, others, and creation.” It’s owned and operated by the Sisters of St. Francis, a community of sisters committed to “deepening the relationship with Mother Earth and Sister Water; standing with persons who are poor; and making peace and practicing non-violence.” The retreat center itself is a former convent and one time girls school (present day sisters live and work out in the community or at Mt. Saint Francis, just across the preserved prairie), boasting 55 bedrooms, soaring ceilings, long hallways1, and a chapel full of storytelling stained glass windows. There’s a labyrinth, a cafeteria that serves wonderful homemade food, and a meditation garden that gives a nod to each Earth element.
Peace is palpable on the grounds, even with some construction maintenance work going on. As modeled by Saints Francis and Clare of Assisi, it’s evident that simple living and seeing the divine in all people and creation is foundational to this place. I’m not Catholic, but if I were, I’d lean toward Franciscan theology. Central to this theology is living close to and taking care of nature–earth, air, fire, water– all creatures, all plants, all landscapes, with maintaining diversity as priority.2
My role during the weekend was to offer 1:1 wellness coaching and a group poetry reading to the participants of Shalom’s monthly Day of Renewal–this day is open to anyone who wants to sign up to receive various healing treatments and also allows plenty of time for private reflection. The following day, I offered a 12 Tiny Things focused workshop on moving through the season of Advent with intention, rooted and aligned during this period of active waiting.
One of the thought exercises we did early on was identifying desired feelings in certain areas of life, using the chapters in 12 Tiny Things as a frame. “How do you want to feel in your work? At home? When it comes to food or communication or creativity?” Every time I offer the invitation to sleuth out those root words that describe how they want to show up in their days, people identify things they hadn’t really taken much time to look at before. Many of us spend a fair bit of energy on how other people feel (whether it’s worrying about what they think of us, or trying to get them to feel a certain way), or on moving toward how we think we’re supposed to feel, but very limited time thinking about how we actually want to feel. But what an illuminating thing, to shine a light on what you truly want for yourself. When you can go there, it opens the door to figuring out what small, intentional practices are going to help you feel how you want to. Most people at the workshop – from the college professor who’d just moved to town a month ago to the 93 year old sister who planted the 40 foot pines I described at the beginning of this piece – wanted to move more slowly, with greater attention to small things.
How about you? What would it be like to move more slowly, even if only for 10 minutes, or while doing one ordinary task, like chopping a carrot or walking to the mailbox? Consider, as we move into the holiday season, a time of hustle and bustle for many, what it would be like to do something slowly on purpose. Consider what would shift if you were to give a bit of your attention to the small things that help you feel how you want to feel.
As we approach December, nights continue to lengthen in the north, even while commercialized holiday cheer tries to keep things bright and quickly paced. December feels a bit like a walk through the dark on this side of the world – here in Minnesota the snow has yet to start falling, but days are losing light quickly. And schedules tend to fill fast with end of year sorts of things. Yet there is an opportunity here, even on years when peace feels far away, to savor the little rituals that keep us grounded in what's important – those ceremonies of the ordinary that are always within reach. Those things, when we do them slowly enough, that help us to at least start moving toward feeling how we want to feel. When show up for ourselves, we are better equipped to show up for others.
So, the invitation as we step into the holiday season: Move at the speed that allows noticing birdsong, murmurs present in swaying grasses or tree limbs, and the quality of silence available when you stay still enough, long enough, for conversations with fallen foliage or wisps of steam rising from your cup. Make your own case for slow living.
Upcoming Events:
Join me and Ellie Roscher (my co author of 12 Tiny Things) at Moon Palace Books in Minneapolis, Minnesota on Dec. 3 from 1:30-2:30pm. Signed books make thoughtful gifts!
It was just a wee bit disconcerting rattling around in such a huge building as one of the only overnight guests when all the lights were off…old radiators have their own language.
The sisters and staff I talked with during my stay mentioned there’s more they can do to continue fostering healing with local indigenous groups, and that they continue to look for opportunities, which I appreciated hearing. Since many institutions in the Christian church have a long way to go when it comes to repatriation, reconciliation, and healing with the myriad Native American tribes and individuals who have been harmed through colonization. And River Lights, the bookstore where I had a pop up book signing, is also deeply committed to fostering local and national initiatives to add to the healing of the land and the land’s original inhabitants, and building a sense of community responsibility. They had two signed copies of 12 Tiny Things leftover from the event, so if you want one, order asap!