The View from My Window

In this post-Easter week of a few days off, I took the opportunity to get away to my happy place: the Benedictine Abbey in Rostrevor. Nothing like starting off the day with a good bit of silence! I usually bring a journal along and record lots of thoughts. This time on a whim I instead threw a sketchbook and watercolour set in the bag before heading off.

The sketchbook was a lockdown purchase, when I also purchased an online watercolour painting class. I have yet to actually finish the lessons, and until this week, exactly 2 pages in the sketchbook had seen the light of day. Developing my painting skills has not gotten off to a great start.

So even when I put these things in my car to set out, I was saying to myself--this sketchbook isn't even going to make it out of the bag.

And yet...

I arrived in Rostrevor later than I wanted, having tried to cram 'one more task' into the time I had in the afternoon before driving up. I hate arriving this way. It means needing that much longer to decompress, to be able to slow down, clear the mind and allow the peaceful and refreshing sense of the place to seep in. No matter. I walked into the church to catch the tail end of the silent prayer that is the second half of vespers and I only had to let my senses take over in order to allow the noisiness of my mind to quieten down. Easter is a lovely time to be there: there is an abundance of flowers in the church, a truly impressive paschal candle made by the monks themselves, and the lingering smell of the incense. The transition was made: my senses were turned on for this visit. I let go of any expectation for deep reflection or spiritual insight. I decided that I would be content on this occasion to simply be aware and notice.

What a relief! No agenda, no list of mental tasks to fulfil. Just notice.

The lengthening daylight this time of year is a blessing. And when the weather is fine, the whole setting of the Kilbroney valley, where the abbey is located is stunning. With daylight still lingering after dinner, I took myself for a walk around the grounds and I set about noticing: I noticed the dramatic arrangement of the clouds in the sky shading the setting sun. I noticed the things already in bloom, and the tiny little green buds just barely pushing through the tips of still bare tree branches. I noticed the ewes and wee lambs in the neighbouring field, their different calls to one another, probably to alert the herd that a strange figure was lurking about next to the wall staring at them.

In this relaxed state, I took myself into the church, ready to enjoy the peaceful closing moments of the day at the evening vigil. The reading from scripture was the story of the disciples encountering the risen Christ on the road to Emmaus, and the 'realisation' moment in that story grabbed my attention:

As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, ‘Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.’ So he went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognised him...

Luke 24:28-31

That moment of perception changed everything! The risen Christ had just shared a long walk and a deep theological chat with these two despairing disciples, but they didn't yet perceive his presence. The moment of revelation changed everything for them and for their community. They returned excitedly to tell their friends how he had been revealed to them in the breaking of bread. Their good news added to the strength of their community.

After the service concluded I wanted to sit with the imagery of the reading some more. So I grabbed that sketchbook and did what I was intending to for the last two years, I started doodling!

I lost myself for nearly an hour, mostly sitting and appreciating the story, occasionally doodling, appreciating the significance of the interaction, the powerful moment of revelation and perception. It provoked in me a sense of awe, a recollection of my own experiences of perceiving Christ in a particular moment, a desire for a more expansive imagination, to be able to perceive Christ's presence more readily in daily life.

The next day I awoke to absolutely stunning weather. The sketchbook was open on the desk from the night before. There was nothing else for it: I was going to enjoy the view--from my window, from vantage points around the grounds, I was going to sit outdoors and notice things and paint and let my mind rest. I was going to cherish the imagery of the revelation over dinner at Emmaus and the reflection of the previous night and be at peace in the present moment.

The view from my window, which style do you prefer?

The instructor on the video course (which I purchased during lockdown but never completed) had extolled the virtues of going outdoors to paint. Step away from the screen, never mind about this or that technique, just go outdoors and engage with what you see. If it's windy and the page is blowing everywhere, that's part of the work! If you've only brought along one size brush then get creative with that brush! I had always had one reason or another to completely ignore this suggestion (in fairness, the weather isn't always spectacular and conducive to sitting outdoors for extended periods). But this was the moment.

I couldn't have asked for a more restful, enjoyable day. In between the services, I spent most of the time looking closely at flowers, leaves, and rocks, and listening to the sound of the water while sat at a bench by a stream.

Some of the sketching turns out to be random blotches of colour on a page? Great! Those random blotches of colour are the result of a restful, peaceful half an hour of noticing the gradations of colour on a rock wall, or a flower petal, or a leaf. Thank you rock/flower/leaf for helping me to calm my mind for half an hour!

Nothing in all this is new, there's any amount of advice/blog posts/books/techniques exhorting us to be in the present moment, to calm overactive minds, to reduce anxiety, to enjoy each moment, etc, etc, etc. I suppose there are so many of these blogs/books/techniques because we are each different and need to be reminded in different ways at different times. Would I tell everyone to go get a sketchbook and watercolour set? Probably not, because maybe that is not what will 'resonate' for everyone. But I am confident that every unique soul does have something that will help or facilitate this sense of restful presence in the moment, because every unique soul is created and beloved by God who has filled this world with stunning beauty down to the tiny details on a leaf or a flower or a rock, and who wants us to enjoy it, appreciate it, cherish it, and experience peace.

On this occasion of learning this lesson (again), I can only offer my gratitude for the chance I had to step away for two days, to experience the Emmaus story afresh, and to be in the present moment.