Free us from lack of vision...

This morning in church, we were reciting prayers that we always recite.  At least, I think we always recite them.  For the first time I wondered: do they change these periodically?  I really don't remember that line before.  The line?  "Free us from lack of vision, and from inertia of will and spirit...."

Back in the day when I used to speak more, I would often write a speech before I left home.  Then, I'd rewrite it, often till it was a different speech, on the plane and in airports.  Finally, I'd rewrite it again the night before in my hotel room...until it was a different speech.  At last the moment to delivery my remarks would arrive, and I would delivery a whole different speech than any of the ones I'd written or rewritten.  I felt like God would give me the words that people in the audience needed to hear in that moment, but I was never confident enough to prepare no remarks. The ritual repeated itself over and again.  I created a file labeled, "Speeches I never gave," for the ones that I had written but...well, you get the idea.

After the speeches, I always believed that everyone in the audience heard a different message--the message that each person needed to hear that moment.  Kind of the reverse of speaking in tongues: I said the same words but in transport to the ears of my audience, they transformed into a special message.

This morning as I heard, "Free us from lack of vision...," I wondered if that is what had happened to me.  Had these words been here each week, and I had just never been ready to hear them?  And, this week I was somehow different; now I was ready to hear that I had a lack of vision and inertia of will and spirit?  I don't really know if the words actually changed or if I was just finally ready to hear them, but it doesn't matter.  I am ready to hear them, so the timing is perfect either way. 

I am starting a Staycation today.  That's were I take a week of vacation and stay at home and enjoy activities that tourists, who travel from all over the world to visit Washington, do.  I save money, and more important, I actually return to work next week rested and relaxed.  I also get to enjoy my home, which I spend a lot of money on buying each month, but spend very little time appreciating.

I've been working long hours approaching this Staycation, and I haven't really had much time to think about what I'd do.  I had considered some special art exhibits, but I've already seen most of the ones in which I had an interest.  Three different venues, including the National Mall, show movies outside.  I don't usually get to go to them because of my 5:20 wake-up time, but when I checked what was showing, none of them interested me. I invited neighbors for dinner, but they haven't responded. I have contemplated a day trip to a small city not far away that I've never visited.

However, this morning those words "Free us from lack of vision" stung me.  My limited Staycation planning has lacked vision.  I recalled a month-long pilgrimage to Greece in 1998 and 16 days in Tuscany in 2009.  In each case I only had reservations in and out of the country, and I listened to my heart and where it wanted to go each day.  Neither demonstrated inertia of will and spirit.  What if I listened to each day this week?

Listening to our inner knowing, our spirits, or God whispering in our ears takes a great deal more vision, will and spirit than thoughtful planning.  I have found that it also brings greater rewards, even if more courage. 

There is an old quote, which I believe came from Marianne Williamson that when we turn over our lives to God, the first thing we hear is "Thank you," and the second thing we hear is, "Hold on!"  Well, I am turning my Staycation over to God, so I am holding on.  Except for dancing tonight and a tentative bicycle trip, scheduled with a friend, I don't know what I will do this week, but I am certain that it will reflect more will and spirit than it would have if I started a day earlier. 

For The Love of Art

I've just had the opportunity of watching an early screening of "The Monuments Men." (Official release February 7.) I had vaguely been aware of the events portrayed in the film:, it is a story that deserves to be told and retold. The movie relates the story of a small handful of artists and architects who took on the mission of saving millions of pieces of art from theft and destruction in Europe in World War II.

These men were all at least middle age or older and could easily have sat out the war in the States, but instead, risked, and in some cases lost, their lives so generations hence could be moved just as they had been by seeing these magnificent pieces as boys and young men.

I was touched by both their courage and their vision. Seeing these beautiful pieces in the movie set me into something of a reverie, thinking about masterpieces that I've been privileged to see when I've travelled and how deeply I've been moved. Art is one of the few ways that one human being has of touching the soul of a perfect stranger, perhaps halfway around the world.

I don't have any Renoirs or Rembrandts. I do love buying art, often from street artists, and filling my home with these deeply personal gifts from someone else's soul. In the days after my business failed, I slowly began selling off anything that would produce cash; my art was the last to go. I count myself fortunate that my favorite pieces didn't sell. Since I've rebuilt my "collection," if one can fairly call mostly-street art "a collection."

I've been known to sit and just stare at a favorite piece for a significant period of time, just because it makes me feel good. And, whenever I move, I never consider the new address home until all the artwork is in place.

I am grateful for the Monuments men for their courage and vision... And for giving me the opportunity to see those special pieces. I am also grateful for my "collection," which is of little financial value, but regularly moves my soul, as if the contributions of my street artists were the Mona Lisa.


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