What's Keeping Me Tethered
Three simple rituals currently anchoring me to Love.
Yesterday I woke up with a sore throat. Today I woke up with a sore throat, a cough and body aches. I had planned to write a “proper” letter to you but even typing hurts. I know I could let myself off the hook altogether but writing these Soulmanac letters is a balm and so, as a way to honour both my aching body and my desire to be soothed by my own words, I thought I’d briefly share three simple rituals that I’m currently loving. These are nothing fancy, just three (slightly weird) seasonal practices that are helping to keep my weary soul tethered to the Love I experience in and through this world.
1. Noticing Dead leaves
Once the leaves have fallen I usually find that I stop noticing the leaves and begin to to attend to the bare branches. This year, captivated by a line in Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer’s poem ‘How to Meet This Difficult Day’, I’ve been looking down more than up and surprising strangers by suddenly stopping to take photos of piles of dead leaves. You can read the full poem here but here are the stanzas that have caught my attention:
Some days when I forget how to pray,
if I listen with my whole body,the world reminds me how what is used up, spent
is also a vessel for the holy,as dry leaves become a nest,
as bare branches hold the sunrise.Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
I love every line but it’s the middle of those stanzas that really speaks to me. Oh how I long to hear - and trust - the world reminding me that what is used up or spent is also a vessel for the holy! This month has been relentless and it’s left me feeling dried up and useless. Every time I pause to walk past or through a pile of leaves, I remember the poem and offer my attention to those leaves. These leaves won’t become a nest any time soon but they will become mulch and enrich the earth in their own, slow way. As I crouch down to take photos, I offer a silent prayer of presence and (try to) open to Presence blessing me in my dryness.
2. Making Coffee by Candlelight
I’m not naturally an early rise but I love being up before the sun. One of my favourite things about this time of year is that I don’t have to try too hard to begin my day in the dark. I wrap up in my dressing gown and creep down the stairs, hoping for a few minutes of quiet before the rest of the house rises and the day properly begins.
I used to pad into the living room, sit in an armchair and stare out of the window but, these days, I go straight to the kitchen and get on with the familiar things. I fill and boil the kettle, I put away the dishes, I scoop coffee into the cafetiere, pour water and set a timer for 4 minutes. The only thing that is different to usual is that I do it all by candlelight. It’s a tiny shift but it makes a world of difference to how I experience the start of my day.
John O’Donohue describes the soul as “shy” and never do I feel the truth of that more than when someone turns on an electric light before I am ready for the day. If electric light shouts, “Wake up! Get on with the day!”, candlelight whispers, “Hello, friend. How are you today?”. Doing my simple morning tasks in the companionship of candlelight helps me to begin my day with my soul, rather than with the distracting brightness of the external world.