roaming

Guiding Words for My Spiritual Practice of Hometending

/ nagneberg48 / 6 Comments

February 27, 2024

One Thing Leads to Another

Driving along the Wisconsin side of the Mississippi River this past weekend we were entertained by eagles tumbling in the sky as part of their mating ritual. We lost count of the number of hawks perched on bare branches, enjoying the view of open water and dwindling patches of ice. A glorious day for roaming, and this is one of our favorite drives.

One of our favorite stops is Cultural Cloth, a shop that represents the work of artisans from around the world. We don’t always stop there because we know how dangerous and tempting it can be, but the landscape has been so brown and grey this winter, a shot of color would be welcome. (See what I did there!)

We laughed and wished each other “Happy Anniversary” (Our anniversary is in August!) as we carried our latest purchase, a gorgeous rug made in Guatemala, to the car.

We fell in love with the colors of this kilim style rug woven in the Mazir-Sharif regions of Afghanistan. Their rugs are woven from scraps of yarn left over from the production of their pile-woven rugs. And I knew exactly where it would go–in our entryway.

Once home I folded the rug already in the entryway, which we had purchased from Cultural Cloth the last time we were there, and I placed the new rug in front of the door. Lovely. Welcoming and happy.

But then I wondered what it would look like in the living room area on top of the sisal rug–a shot of color. Why not try that?

Perfect! I liked it there even better.

And that’s when my delight in change took over. My impulse to rearrange. And one thing led to another.

How would the more informal looking rattan chairs in the snug look in the living room? But then what would I do with the existing chairs, for they didn’t seem right for the snug? Ah, how about moving the chairs from the garret to the snug? Well, you get the idea. One thing leads to another.

The spiritual practice of hometending reminds me that nothing is static. Nothing stays the same, and being in the present moment leads to the next present moment. I allow myself to imagine how the present moment can look a bit different with just a bit of imagination and an openness to try something else.

One thing leads to another.

It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better

Fulfilling the vision takes work, and in this case it was moving around three sets of chairs and two tables and lamps and pillows and a desk and more. And as long as everything was in turmoil why not clean the ceiling fan in both the snug and the kitchen. Yes, why not? (Thanks, honey!)

That doesn’t happen in one fell swoop, and before the picture could be complete, things definitely looked worse before they got better. I had a vision, true, but I really didn’t know if it would all work in a pleasing way. The unknown remained unknown until most everything was in place.

Spiritual hometending reminds me that we may want to and, in fact, decide to cross a threshold, and we may know why we are doing that and have some idea of what is ahead, but not completely. We can’t see it all. There will be twists and turns on the path ahead, sometimes requiring trust and courage. When facing a decision, my husband and I often pose as part of the discernment process the question, “What’s the worst that can happen?” In this case, if we didn’t like how it turned out, we could move everything back the way it was. A loss of a day and some energy, yes, but nothing life threatening. We decided it was worth the effort.

Shop the House

I raided the pillow closet and opened up cupboards. I piled up books on tables and moved this here and that there. I thought I might need to buy new lamps, but then remembered the lamps in the guest bedroom, and sure enough, they added just the needed touch of color.

Spiritual hometending reminds me that so often, most often, I have what I need, if I am willing to open my eyes and my heart. At the same time I could not have accomplished the new look without the help and the support of my husband. Hometending–and all of life, often means knowing when to ask for help.

And, of course, what I most need to remember is that my inner house is grounded in the love of God, knowing, no matter what, I am beloved by God.

One More Thought

As I thought about words I often say, I remembered some of my parents’ guiding words. My father often said, “Your day will come.” How frustrating that was to hear sometimes, when whatever I wanted to do or have was denied, but I now hear the hope in that and even the joy in that.

My mother often said–just when conversation was becoming interesting–“Now we are just going to have happy talk.” She did not like disagreements or conflict, but now I also hear something else in her statement. Gratitude for what we have, including the love we have for one another. A desire to lift our lives with optimism.

Guiding Words are meant to lead, to open our hearts to possibilities, to offer direction without locking us into only one way of thinking or being. May it be so.

An Invitation

What words guide you? I would love to know.

NOTE: Cultural Cloth is in Maiden Rock, WI. https://culturalcloth.com

Always More to See

/ nagneberg48 / 8 Comments

February 14, 2023

The day was too glorious–warm, sunny, clear– to spend at my desk, checking off my list what had not yet been accomplished. Even though making those check marks nourishes my soul in a certain way, what I needed was nourishment I could feel radiate throughout my whole body. I needed to roam and am grateful my husband had a plan.

His plan was to drive up the Minnesota side of the St Croix River and then cross over the river into Wisconsin at Taylor’s Falls. We remembered a charming cafe near a waterfall in one of the small Wisconsin towns, but which one? That’s what makes roaming interesting–when you “kind of, sort of know,” but who knows what you’ll see or discover in the meantime.

We love this drive at anytime of the year, but during the summer and fall months, the route is crowded with others who have the same idea–enjoy the colors, explore the river, walk, hike, visit fun little shops, wineries, garden nurseries along the way. In the winter, however, the same route is quiet. The invitation is to savor.

I felt the lingering items on my list languish as I gazed across expanses of snow. From here to where? Remnants of harvested corn poked through the crusty snow, and smoke rose daintily out chimneys of solitary homes. I imagined the river views sweetening the life in those homes. A horse here and a small herd of cattle there, puffing steam through their nostrils. I know tending animals in the winter is a challenge, but for the moment it seemed like an idyllic way of life.

And the river–no boats, of course. No waterskiing, no parties of sun gods and goddesses reveling. Only stillness on the surface, leaving underwater life to our imaginations. This is the river’s own time, which does not have to be shared with others, it seems. I hoped our roaming didn’t interfere with the needed rest, the solitude of sanctuary.

We congratulated ourselves when we found the remembered cafe. Our lunch was delicious and our conversation the kind of catch-up we needed. On the way back to the car I stopped to take a picture of the falls. I suppose I should have recorded the sound of the rushing water, but, oh well, I didn’t. I just wanted a simple souvenir of the day, of the nourishment I was receiving.

What Do You See?

Only when I inserted that photo of the falls, which are barely visible, did I notice the real reason for the image.

Look at the tree in the foreground on the right.

The eye. The large, unblinking eye, looking right at me, and now, you.

In fact, I see the profile of a face—an arched eyebrow, nose and turned down mouth.

You may see something different in this image or you may derive a totally different meaning of the eye or none at all, but here’s what it means to me. There is always more to see. There is always more than meets the eye, especially at first glance. And in my seeing, I am seen.

We took a different route on our way home, one we had not driven before that led us gradually back home to our urban life. Back home to my lists, of course, but they could wait for another day.

An Invitation

What have you seen lately that has nourished you? I would love to know.

NOTE: The cafe we enjoyed was the Water Shed in Osceola, WI.

The Gifts of a Roaming Day

/ nagneberg48 / 2 Comments

January 17, 2023

“How long has it been since we roamed?” I asked my husband as we buckled our seat belts.

We guessed the last time was late in November when we drove around the lakes in suburbs west of Minneapolis. With most of the leaves on the ground, rather than on branches, we had clear views not only of lakeshore, but homes with water views –some huge and ostentatious and others old and more like summer cottages. A perfect day to imagine what it might be like to live in a lake community.

Since that day we had been occupied with the holidays and family events, the death of a dear friend, and weather unsafe for driving. The day had come, however, to resume our weekly practice of roaming. Seeing what we could see. Relaxing in the rhythm of the road. Learning something new, perhaps.

Our destination was Winona, a town in southern Minnesota situated on the Mississippi River. I did a little research and discovered that Winona means, “first born daughter” in the Dakotah language. I happen to be a first born daughter, so that felt like a good omen. When I looked up Winona on the internet I discovered there were over 40 homes or buildings listed on the National Registry of Historic Sites, including the public library, and we hoped to spot many of them as we wandered city streets. Part of our roaming this past fall was to visit the library in each town, but Winona’s was closed for the weekend as part of commemorating the Martin Luther King, Jr holiday. Next time, we said. And, believe me, there will be a next time.

Our main reason for going to Winona was to visit the Minnesota Marine Art Museum. https://www.mmam.org on the banks of the Mississippi River. That has been on our list for years, but even though a number of friends had told us what a special place it is, somehow the timing was never right. Who wanted to spend time in a museum during non-winter months and during the winter, finding the day when the weather conditions allowed for easy travel was a challenge. Besides, the image I had of the museum was a dark cavern of crusty oil paintings of old clippers ships. That just didn’t appeal to me, even though I think of myself as a person influenced by the element of water.

Instead, this museum, which opened in 2006 and is housed in a gorgeous turn-of-the century influenced building, is dedicated to great art inspired by water, including world-class impressionist and Hudson River School art. But the museum also seeks to showcase contemporary art that expands and opens one’s relationship to water.

Our timing, as it turns out, was perfect. We immersed ourselves in the work of Anne Labovitz. https://labovitz.com And immerse is the operative word. Along with nine large paintings that focus on water’s surface quality and luminosity, we entered into what felt like sacred space–an installation of gently swaying walls that mimic the slight movement of calm water. Along with seeing and feeling, one hears a soundscape recorded at sunrise on the shores of Lake Superior. I sat inside the waterscape, contemplating, remembering, as if real water was washing over me.

I know most of you who read my blog do not live close enough to visit the museum, but if you do, I urge you to go see this exhibit before it closes on January 21. Our visit to this museum reminded me, once again, that treasures reside everywhere, including our back yards.

What has been on your list forever that you simply have not accessed yet? What might you discover accidentally if you got out a map, a real map, and figured out how to get THERE from HERE? Or if that is not possible, what are the other ways to enliven your curiosity? Of course, books, and perhaps something in a genre you normally don’t read. But that can also be true for other media–watch a documentary, instead of a mystery or crime show. One friend is taking an online class on bird identification and knows that will add to the pleasures of her daily walks. Another friend told me recently that she does virtual tours offered by the Minneapolis Institute of Art, and I am sure many other museums offer similar opportunities. Or even simpler, have you ever walked through the doors of the church down the street or visited a library other than the one in your loop of life? Recently, a friend and I were driving home after lunch, and I spotted a beautiful old library I had never seen before, and that is now on my list. Perhaps follow a block and see where it ends and then turn around and see where it ends in the other direction, stopping when something interests you.

Become a tourist in your own part of the world. Become a tourist in your life.

Saturday my husband I set out in sunshine, hoping to see eagles and hawks and we did. (The day’s tally was nine eagles, but only one hawk who looked permanently frozen on a bare branch.) But we had not expected to be so uplifted and amazed. We felt honored and privileged by the gifts offered to us. And we know we will return in the spring and summer when the river is open and the museum gardens are in bloom.

In the meantime, I wonder where we will roam next.

An Invitation

Where or in what way is your curiosity inviting you to roam? I would love to know.

The Landscape’s Answer to My Spirit’s Need

/ nagneberg48 / 8 Comments

November 8, 2022

What do you see here? How would you describe this scene?

I imagine some would call this bleak, cold, barren, dismal and wonder why I would even take this picture.

This landscape is exactly what I needed recently.

Last week I was cranky, easily irritated. Unsettled and touchy. When I feel that way, I know I need more time in morning meditation. I need to write in my journal, read sacred words and ponder them, sit in silence, and pray. But this past week, although it looked spacious enough on paper, somehow zoomed past without room for what I most needed. A correction: The time was there, but I failed to use it in the ways I knew would help.

A dear friend has received a dire diagnosis, and I am grieving for her and for her family. And I am grieving for myself, too. I wake up in the morning in the midst of thoughts for her, and a prayer for her is the last thing on my lips before I shut my eyes at night. I experience both grief for what is being lost right now, and I anticipate the grief that will come.

I am so sad.

At the same time I want to be present to my friend and whatever she needs right now. A helper. A doer. A responder. A receiver. A calm and quiet presence. Whatever is needed in the moment.

A Call to Roam

The past week was beautiful, warmer than normal temperatures. Sunny, and many leaves were holding on in a continuation of fall’s majestic show. But Friday was cooler and grey; a day signaling introspection and contemplation.

How grateful I was that my husband and I had set aside that day to roam. At his request we drove down along the Mississippi River on the Wisconsin side of the river–one of our favorite routes. The towns along the way. Maiden Rock, Stockholm, Pepin, are busy on summer weekend days, and I imagine not long ago the leaf-peepers were oohing and aahing at the color and the sparkling water.

Now every tree was bare. The skeletal branches revealed the essence of each tree, and the sky and the waters almost blending together as one whispered a message of connection, of wholeness.

How grateful I was to be able to rest my eyes. Instead of missing what was no longer there, I paused in what is. This is beauty, too. This is love, too.

I still felt sad, but I also felt a kind of peace. The spaciousness I glimpsed between the branches reminded me that we are each part of the ongoing cycle the seasons offer us.

We crossed the river back into Minnesota and found a quiet place for lunch, next to a railroad track and right on the river. How fun it will be to return there in another season when the days are warmer and the scene is livelier and more colorful, but this was just what I needed in that moment.

An Invitation:

What landscape nurtures your soul’s need? I would love to know.