Spirit Storehouse: water element

I sank into my recliner this Sunday evening properly tired from two days of mowing, weeding and cleaning, like the good granddaughter of a farmer that I am.

I don’t attend church these days but I wandered for an hour this morning in prayer and meditation. I don’t know how my Banka would have viewed that. I do know his favorite hymn was Sweet Hour of Prayer. As a teenager I would sing it, examining the words, searching for clues about Banka’s relationship with God. I could identify with a lot of it; ‘Sweet hour of prayer that calls me from a world of care. . .’ I solemnly empathized with every image until I came to the phrase ‘and shout while passing through the air, farewell, farewell sweet hour of prayer.’ The picture it evoked of my wrinkled, skinny grandfather with his huge ears that stuck out from the sides of his head like side view mirrors, flying through the air, like maybe on a rope swing, shouting a regretful good bye to his prayer time, always undid my better self.

Images from the weekend come to mind and I realize I’m visualizing them with unusual clarity; two evenings of sitting with friends on darkening patios, watching stars and the half moon and fire flies. A train goes by. The engineer returns our wave as he glides past and beyond our view. Dan’s profile is tall and elegant as he describes a new kind of insulating cinder block. I’m intrigued. Charlie describes his art of poured paint, his arms gesturing. John beams in his ‘other #1 Uncle’ tee shirt, Judy and Garey met on line. He visualized her and met her the next day. Tiny Lisa is expansive with her friends. Chuck, a world traveler, dreads flying to Indiana the next day.

Paul dreams of creating a new musical instrument. Ray thinks we should start production of Alaskan oil. He’s in love with his new series S 1994 BMW. Laura has her long hair up out of the heat. She knows the lyrics to all the songs we can remember and her laugh is music too.

Jenny, my daughter, called to say she’d seen a real dust bunny. A little rabbit had gotten into the house and taken shelter behind the sofa. Rescued, he had cobwebs between his ears, and tufts of hair and dust festooning him. He was released no worse for wear.

It’s going to storm. I welcome the water in a way that people with a leak in the roof usually do not.

On Thursday my acupuncturist needled the points for Spirit Storehouse on my chest. That point, say the professionals, helps balance the water element within us. I don’t know. I walked in there like an old car to a dealer who has promised $1000 trade-in for any car you can drive to the lot. I walked out of there a well-tuned Mercedes. Or think of a muddled and raging sea after being calmed by Christ or the lifting of a friend who was sinking beneath the waves because his terror overcame his faith. Think of reservoirs filling up with clean rain water.

I had been anxious and numb as I lay down on the treatment table. Now look. I am filled up with gratitude for friends. My kitchen sparkles. My wood stove is polished up for the fall season. I have vacuumed, weeded, laundered and mowed. I have smiled with friends and remembered my dear grandfather. My daughter, that good girl, called me and made me laugh. I feel supported. I feel rich and aware and full of hope.

I gathered this bounty from the road side during my walking meditation. I’m passing it on to you.