Margaret Philbrick

Author. Gardener. Teacher. Planting seeds in hearts.

Author. Gardener. Teacher.

Planting seeds in hearts.
  • Home
  • About the Author
  • My Books & Articles
  • Contact
  • Media/Speaking
  • Blog
I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow.   1 Corinthians 3:6
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVXYZ

Archives for January 2021

Seeing With Freedom in 2021

January 5, 2021 by Margaret Philbrick Leave a Comment

As a writer I’m drawn to large projects that are years in the making. Yet, focused work on my current manuscript can feel limited: not all of life is contained in Renaissance Italy (hint, hint the manuscript for my new novel is done:)! For our anniversary, my husband gave me an iPod with the date of our wedding engraved on the back. This little blue baby allows me to take beautiful photographs instantly and capture the grandeur of God’s handiwork with clarity and presence. When I need a break from writing I wander the woods photographing moss or in this season, frozen fog.

Perhaps this might seem unproductive. Inefficient. Indulgent, even. 

We so seldom take time to rest in the world around us, a world marked by isolation and fear in 2020. It’s time to fight against those Covid practices and get outside. When was the last time you collapsed and made a snow angel, plucked an icicle and felt it melt away in your exposed hand? This childlike endeavor requires a willingness to stop, sit and see. 


STOP, SIT, AND SEE

These three actions may help us live a balanced life, but the Western ideal of success places no value on the virtues of stopping to take in what God may be wanting to show us. Instead, as author Anne Lamott describes it, our culture pursues “forward thrust, going forward, staying one step ahead of the abyss… and if we can’t stay ahead of the abyss then we go to IKEA and buy a throw rug.”  

We buy a throw rug to cover up the abyss because we don’t want to see it. Outrunning the abyss of a meaningless, unproductive life drives us onward. After all, in our short few decades on earth we’ve been convinced by our parents, our schools, our families and friends that we’ve got to make a difference in this world. The endless pursuit of difference-making is exhausting. Could taking time to stop, sit and see bear fruit instead? Exploring the lives of poets, artists and prophets tells us unequivocally, “yes.”

I recently led a poetic journaling event with young moms desperately in need of a night away from their kids. Instead of hanging out drinking wine and talking incessantly about their kids, they were longing for a creative and restorative activity. I used the German poet, Rainer Maria Rilke as my subject for leading these women because he knew the value of investing slow and significant time to develop a creative work. He tells us that, “to be an artist means, not to compute or count; it means to ripen as the tree which does not force its sap, but stands unshaken in the storms of spring with no fear that summer might not follow.” Oh, to have the confidence of a tree who does not count its rings. Gathering rings, rendering sap and bearing fruit takes time and God is in no hurry. To access his light we need to cease our hurry and see the small things which are often overlooked, like the cracking open of milkweed pods or the ever-changing color of water.
 

FINDING GOD IN THE WILDERNESS

On a chilly spring evening I attended a lecture at a local college on the life of artist Lilias Trotter. I’d never heard of this gifted Victorian era artist who gave up a career as the first renowned female painter in England to pursue life as a missionary in Algeria. She devoted her life to loving Muslim people, especially women and their children. Similar to the work of moms today, her work was arduous— hand washing laundry in rivers, feeding numerous children and forging friendships with women in sewing circles while learning Arabic. Her calling could easily have overwhelmed her. Yet, she chose to find daily sacred space by wandering into the desert to capture images of God in highly detailed, painted landscapes in her journal— precise images as small as a matchbook due to the scarcity of art supplies. She learned to “hold back everything that would crowd our souls” in order to access God’s light and, in turn, give that light to others. Her commitment to separating herself from the rigors of work to see God in the wilderness inspired me to do the same. My lens of wonder in all his works needed time to focus and a deliberate attempt to “uncrowd” my soul allowed open spaces for his light to come in.

“The daisies have been talking again—the reason they spread out their leaves flat on the ground is because the flowers stretch out their little hands, as it were, to keep back the blades of grass that would  shut out the sunlight. They speak so of the need of deliberately holding back everything that would crowd our souls and stifle the freedom of God’s light and air.” – Lilias Trotter, 1899 

Which brings me back to my walks in the woods collecting moments (borrowing from Heinrich Boll here). Some of these images call for a quick poem, a little nugget of carefully crafted words to describe what speaks in creation. This gift forces me to slow down and look for beauty unfolding, then rest and reflect on what I’ve seen and take the next step, create! When we create we become more like God because we are made in the image of the author of all creation, and our grand author is not scrolling social media counting his followers.

As Rilke said, we don’t need to “compute or count” followers, likes on Instagram, page views, or friends. We need to ripen as the tree and wave with the freedom of tall grass. Make time for God, look for him in icy crystals, listen for him in the cracking of milkweed. Stop, sit and see, and if you are so inspired, give him back some of what he’s shown you.

Milkweed

Irresistible winter cracker

temptress for fifty years,

your milky silk

flowing through fingertips, 

drifting where?

Unremarkable,

brown seed carried

on snowy thistledown,

to unseen kingdoms

where fairies ride

and race upon your 

feathery seats

like charioteers, 

monarchs in summer.

Milkweed— magic maker

earth’s clouds,

God’s laughter,

enticing hardened

grown-ups to play

jump, toil

and spin

in open fields again.

MARGARET PHILBRICK

This article has been amended from the original which appeared in Popel Women, 2019.

https://www.propelwomen.org/cmspage.php?intid=39&intversion=500

Filed Under: Poetry, Uncategorized Tagged With: Frozen Fog, Muir Woods, Propel Women, Seeing Anew, Toft Point



Archives

  • February 2023
  • November 2022
  • August 2022
  • May 2022
  • March 2022
  • July 2021
  • May 2021
  • February 2021
  • January 2021
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • February 2019
  • January 2019
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • October 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • April 2017
  • February 2017
  • December 2016
  • October 2016
  • August 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • October 2015
  • August 2015
  • June 2015
  • April 2015
  • February 2015
  • December 2014
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • August 2014
  • May 2014
  • April 2014
  • March 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013
  • October 2013

Categories

  • Advent
  • Art
  • Books
  • death and dying
  • Devotion
  • Family
  • Gardening
  • Gratitude
  • Holidays
  • Home
  • Hope
  • Inspiration
  • Love
  • New life
  • Poetry
  • Reading
  • Seasons
  • Suicide
  • Uncategorized
  • Writing

Recent Posts

  • Our Own Expiration Date
  • Grandma’s Painting is Finished!
  • Leftover Lace
  • God’s Secret Trousseau
  • Faith Deconstruction and Reconstruction
Follow Us on FacebookFollow Us on PinterestFollow Us on RSSFollow Us on LinkedIn

Subscribe to Blog Email Posts

Enter your email:

A Minor: A Novel of Love, Music & Memory
Redbud Writer's Guild
afghan-women-writing-project
© Margaret Ann Philbrick 2014. All rights reserved. / Contact
Website by Paraclete Multimedia / Portrait Photography by Stephanie Hulthen