The Lord said to his people: “You are standing at the crossroads. So consider your path. Ask where the old, reliable paths are. Ask where the path is that leads to blessing and follow it. If you do, you will find rest for your souls.” But they said, “We will not follow it!” (Jer. 6:16, NET).

“Where and how do you find your wisdom?” I was shocked to be asked this question from an older woman. Oddly, we weren’t having any divine conversation when she asked how I gain wisdom. 

I wish I had some profound discovery or earth-shaking answer, but I told her I believe wisdom comes when I choose low concentration, quiet activities. I blend productivity with silence that rest my mind and open my ears. These are my most practiced examples:

-Vacuuming

-Brushing dogs

-Mowing grass

-Walking

-Listening to nature sounds, outdoors and on CD’s

-Laying down to watch the sky, sometimes on a blanket, sometimes in the open hatch of my car

-Closing my eyes and gently observing one sensory experience: smell, sound, texture, air

-Carrying pen and paper (99% of the time) to write what I consider vital observations

-Reading small segments at a time. I remind myself that I can only absorb so much before becoming exhausted. I take bite sized pieces rather than gulp chunks of data.

These low impact exercises lead to a gamut of productive discovery. The dogs get brushed, floors are clean, grass is mowed, and I get fresh air exercise. I appreciate frequent eye breaks from screens and fast-moving stimuli. My head clears.

These non-structured activities invite me to hear what my soul wants. It listens to what my spirit needs. God chooses to use these seemingly “mindless’ actions to provide abundant benefits, including peace, rest and open channels for fresh water to flow inside. I didn’t set out seeking for this inner spa, but I leave these activities feeling pampered.

As long as grass and dog hair keep growing, I anticipate further insight. Until floors clean themselves or nature’s movement stops, I have sources to gather understanding.

From a contemplative lily pad,

Christina

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