How blessed those who are poor in spirit, the Reign of God is theirs (for the sharing). Matthew 5:3
What might a simpler life look like?
Physics teaches that with speed and pressure
comes heat and friction;
stress and tension following closely behind.
The antidote to compulsive-comparative living
lies in a wholesome embrace of our natural sanctity;
the gift of being simply (and not super) human.
Knowingly imperfect, ready and willing
to forgive and be forgiven, we are all made for mercy.
Compassionate connection is our role and link in the chain of life.
Un-possessed by possessions,
those who claim their humanness
welcome their own poverty of spirit.
For only those who know
they are incomplete
can be made whole.
And living with less (by choice or circumstance),
we are more likely, in lean times,
to lean on Providence and rely on one another.
Reverencing our limitations lets us savor and share
an abundance of simpler pleasures
and taste the humbler joys of a less-complicated, uncluttered life.
Live simply that others might simply live! Attributed to Elizabeth Ann Seton
Meanwhile, a global conspiracy consumes us;
cramming our days with stuff and activities,
promising purpose and happiness to fill the sink-hole at the heart of us.
Paradoxically, true ‘holey-ness’ widens that gaping ache within,
by reducing needs, minimizing wants,
and clearing the clutter of compulsions, to making room for others.
Though a simpler life
is intentionally uncomplicated,
simple is never easy.
It exposes the emptiness of overfilled lifestyles
as it celebrates the satisfaction
of spacious fulfillment.
Simpler also presumes slower;
moving away from purpose-driven and toward presence-drawn;
from transactional into relational living.
How we synchronize our days,
sets our patterns of rest, work and wonder,
with careful attention to well-being.
Slowing allows us to live
from that deep-within-well,
and avoid running ahead of grace.
When life becomes frenetic,
it is time for sabbath slowing,
back down to the pace of God’s good time.
Slowing… to attend to those who cross your path.
Slowing… to match the gait of frailty, the pace of infirmity.
Slowing… to meet the tottering steps of old ones and infants.
Slowing… to notice the contours of life around you.
Slowing… long enough to scent the breeze or be captivated by sunset.
Slowing… to feel the road beneath your feet.
Slowing… to be redirected, detoured into byways to learn about loss and hope.
May you follow the lead of the Timeless One,
that ageless, ever-patient lover of the lost;
so slow to anger, so simply rich in radiant mercy.