Column, Spirituality: Orienteering

Let’s step outside for a moment, where we can see the sky and at least sense the horizon. Now, consider a question: Say our daily labors were accomplished or could be pushed off till tomorrow. If we were free to set out in a direction and keep going for a while, which would it be?

Perhaps there’s some destination exerting an attraction that would determine a heading. That new ice cream shop that opened down the street a couple of months ago we haven’t visited yet. Or the yard where the tuxedo kitty receives his courtiers as they pay their respects. Or something farther afield that couldn’t be reached in an hour, no, nor in a day. I hope in good time to stir the waters of Walden Pond with my hand and wipe its wetness across my forehead. It would strengthen a promise to myself to set out toward Thoreau’s haunts, even though I’d have to turn back.

We don’t have to have an end in mind, though. We could just choose and go that way.

Maybe one of us wants the cool touch and clean scent of north. The North Woods is far from here, but if we just get closer, some breeze that’s touched it might waft to us.

Or the warm caress and spicy smells of south. The sun is shining on the pines there, and gardenias are in bloom. Some call them Cape jasmine — do you know that perfume?

We might head west. That’s enough of a trope to be a cliché, riding off into the sunset … but its burning spotlight promises to illuminate mysteries in the shadows it casts.

We could go east, orienting ourselves to the Holy Cities. Or, should they cast no spell over us, simply walk toward evening as it approaches. Magic waits reliably in the dusk.

But why limit ourselves to the points of the compass? We could sink down into the soil as if we were roots, probing. Or rise with the cottonwood fluff till an updraft lofted us into the clouds.

Say that our daily labors were accomplished or could be pushed off till tomorrow. Say we were free. We could stay right where we are. There’s plenty here to see, hear, smell, touch, taste.

Whatever we choose, or whatever chooses us … let’s pay attention. Remember to be glad and grateful. It’s a small world, but big, too. There’s so much to experience. There’s enough.

The Reverend Doug Job does interim ministry for congregations in transition and keeps good memories and friends made while serving a church in Cape. At present, he does his obsessing over maps in Hannibal, Mo. You may have his direction at revdarkwater@gmail.com.