Two books I have recently picked up to read have been an encouraging presence to remind me to pause and appreciate. One about nature. One about monastic life around the world. Each one with the reminders that unplugging from the world for a bit is good. To appreciate nature and the creation we've been given. And what a quiet, contemplative life looks like in different monastic traditions around the world.
In The Interior Silence by Sarah Sands, we are travelling the world to different monasteries (Japan, Bhutan, England, Italy, Egypt, etc) and learning about why each place is special and set apart from the busy, distracted world that surrounds them. Some are high up in a desolate mountain peak, some are well outside a busy city in the countryside. It is a sort of tourist guide to monasteries, as our author is only staying at each place for a night or two. I would be so curious to learn about how a week or more changes the perspectives and priorities, with reflections on how it has impacted deeper thinking and inner joy from feeling closer to the Creator. The overall resounding theme of each place is simplicity. How can one live in the world but not be of the world? How can one live without the heavy burdens of worries, cares, and other difficult things we carry? And regarding the physical carrying of burdens, monks don't have possessions. So there is this counter-cultural reminder of all the stuff we have and how much we don't need. I felt the urge many times to off load many of my possessions in a fell swoop.
I enjoyed getting to learn about the places she went and how different they are culturally, especially Bhutan and Egypt. I am fascinated. Those two are dramatically different, of course, but equally fascinating. I love the notion of visiting ancient places, like in Egypt, the pyramids in the distance, and a visit to Alexandria. Modern and bustling these places are, built over much of the ancient traces. It reminds me that we are all building and treading over the bones of the dead. And the wisdom of Bhutan, perhaps extreme to a point no other nation will ever want to follow (or are they ahead of us?), in measuring happiness and limiting tourism. Closing themselves off to some extent. I am not sure how that works geopolitically, but the idea of protecting the landscape, the lifestyle, the culture, and promoting values of living simply are appealing, even if viewed as backwards by most modern nations. I am listening in those quiet moments. I am delighted to visit several (from my armchair) places of peace and contemplation, of simplicity and living out generosity.
In The Brief Life of Flowers by Fiona Stafford is beautifully written. Each chapter is focused on a different flower and she begins with lovely descriptions of a location and the flower thriving. We are reminded that flowers usually represent the fragility of life, and yet they also at the same time show us how new life springs up with every season. It's a beautiful illustration of the both/and philosophy rather than an either/or view of something. We can embrace both aspects of flowers and appreciate them for their gifts in nature. The author beckons us to look at history through the eyes of the flowers, including how they were used in remedies (or how they might poisonous - looking at you, Foxgloves), and draws in many art and literary connections to the flowers, which I love anytime poets and the literary world can be connected.
Since we are beyond midsummer, I will share this lovely passage from the chapter on roses:
Walls, sheds and garages disappear under mountainous rambling roses, which hang like suspended avalanches of pink and cream. Roses and shoot up trees to make midsummer fireworks of bright white-gold star showers, or stay close tot he ground releasing cascades of soft, small spheres over a terrace or rockery.
I first saw this book at the Oxford Botanic Garden this Spring, which is a perfect place to see such a book and read about such fascinating plants. It will always make me think of that wonderful, old botanic garden I love to visit.
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