From Volume 7, Number 1, Summer 2000

Recovering Rhythm

by Chris Bygonaise

In spiritual reading as of late, I've been a bit disappointed that nothing seems to be inspiring me. Once I realized, however, that the "turbo-reading" that has served me so well as a full-time graduate student was not the way to read about matters of the spirit, I found something in a book that I'd read last year, and I wanted to share it with you. It's from Esther de Waal's The Celtic Way of Prayer, and it really opened my eyes and heart to something I've let slide: my place in the wheel of the year.

The following quote rung like a bell in my heart, and reminded me of the necessity of reclaiming our place in the circle of nature:

Today when I can go to a supermarket and buy any of the fruits of the earth at any time of the year I need no longer be aware of the pattern of the earth bringing forth her fruits in due season. Living with electricity, I can deny the night and I can extend the day entirely to suit my own self, my needs, and my interests. I can forget the coming of the dark or the slow dawning of the light; the pattern of the rising and setting of the sun or the waxing and waning of the moon are really no longer really important. (pp. 53-54).

How true this is for me, perhaps more so than for the rest of you. Living in the ultra-urbanized, heavily-populated northeastern industrial corridor of New Jersey, just over the water from Manhattan, my experience with nature and the natural rhythm of things might require a bit more work than those of you fortunate enough to live in places like Colorado and Montana. Also, because of my busy schedule of school, work, teaching and homework, I have let my consciousness of my place in the wheel of the year slip by. For a long time now I have felt a lukewarmness, a craving for something unknown, as if I'd lost my direction while on some trip I didn't even know I was on. As De Waal states, I have lived in a world governed by lights, heating, air-conditioning, TV, telephones, and above all, concrete! I lived in New Mexico for many years, so I know what it's like to feel the seasons move by. It's easy to feel a part of it, to be moved by it; here in the city, however, we must remind ourselves that it's still present, that God-ordered rhythm of nature, the year, seasons, sunrises and sunsets.

Celtic Christianity has therefore reminded me to reset my biological clock, or circadian rhythm, or consciousness to what is going on around me. I took a walk earlier, just to "see" what things looked like. What was blooming? The roses and rhododendrons were in full bloom, but the tulips and jasmine in my grandmother's backyard are already past their time. Honeysuckle is in bloom, but the fireflies are not out yet. The sun set around 8:30 pm tonight. So that's where I am! How long has it been since I lifted my head up to see these things, to smell them, to leave my walkman at home and to listen? The Celtic names for the seasons echo their ancient roots grounded in a spirituality of nature. Therefore a church liturgy that reflects the seasons of the year is the most natural thing in the world, and a love for God's creation becomes a celebration of the Son who restores our natural relationship with creation.

My revelation was like finding an old book on a shelf that I'd never finished reading; locating the dog-eared page, I open it and say "Hmm, now where was I in this story?" Perhaps we could leave the TV off sometime, and light a candle. Turn off the A/C and feel the air as it is; cook recipes with produce that is in season. All of this can bring us back into the rhythm of the passage of time, and our place in it.

I agree with Esther, when she says that she seeks a spirituality that embodies "a more holistic way of living and praying: the link between men and women and the earth; the daily pattern of the coming of light and the fall of darkness; the movement of the seasons of the year; the relationship of death and new life and rebirth, time and time again." (p. 68)

Thanks for letting me share this!

Peace,

Christopher Bygonaise