Plant Your Feet
A summer reflection by Lauren Goldbloom
“I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.”
From the Summer Day, by Mary Oliver
From my front porch, I can hear the rustling of the maple leaves in the late June breeze, the chirping of the finches that have moved into the neighborhood, and the occasional barks of our golden doodle who believes it her ordained duty to protect this little plot of land and the people who reside here.
Summer is emerging on my block, and all around me are invitations to plant my feet right where I am and learn how to pay attention.
In our backyard, the serviceberry trees we planted two years ago are standing a little taller, rooting a little deeper, their leaves are a little fuller. I take a note from them and plant my feet on the warm earth, feel the sunlight on my face and stretch a little taller. Maybe I can even find rest in the staying, the rooting, the depth that comes from sticking it out a little longer in one spot…
Across the street, sweet Madre sits on her front porch. She’s collecting hummingbird feeders and passing them out to neighbors. A justice-loving Catholic elder, she’s shared stories with me of demonstrations and protests on the side of peace, and now she’s set to ushering in shalom for the neighborhood with a welcome campaign of nectar jars. Maybe I can learn to pay attention like she does, greeting hummingbirds and human neighbors alike...
On the sidewalk, a mom pushes her little one in her stroller while Amy, who just completed third grade, rides her bike alongside and waves. Her smile is wide and free as she feels the wind on her face and glides gleefully down the street. Children are neighborhood sages, excavating joy from little wonders and teaching the art of attention to anyone listening. Maybe I can learn from Amy and hop on my bike, or grab some bubbles, or pull out some sidewalk chalk and begin to play…
While I don’t exactly know what a prayer is either, it turns out that when I plant my feet into the earth in this place where my body dwells, something beautiful is returned to me. I begin to notice the simple invitations of presence and attention offered to the still and curious. It’s nudging me to notice the sacred all around me.
How is God inviting you to pay attention this summer? How will you plant your feet on the sacred ground of your neighborhood?
