Estuaries of Life
Table Talk
Setting the Table
You are welcome here. Come just as you are, bringing whatever is on your heart today. Take a few moments and allow yourself to just be. Take a couple deep breaths, grab yourself a cup of coffee, light a candle, do something that brings you comfort. Allow yourself to be present in this moment.
Consider the mountains and the grand canyon, and what came before to give them such magnificent shape.
“Realize that everything connects to everything else.”
– Leonardo DaVinci
“Our ancient experience confirms at every point that everything is linked together, everything is inseparable.”
– 14th Dalai Lama
Romans 12:5
So we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members one of another.
Food for Thought
Paul Nicklen is an incredibly talented photographer of wildlife and natural landscapes. A recent series of his features aerial views of dried estuaries of the Colorado River Delta. They are breathtaking. What I find most compelling about the images are the shapes and patterns carved by the water long ago – now embedded in the earth – that so resemble the roots and branches of trees – shapes and patterns which also resemble the branching arteries, veins, and capillaries of our own bodies.
It has always intrigued me that these branching patterns are so recognizable and fundamentally a part of such vastly different species and phenomena – the veins of our bodies, the branches and roots of vegetation, the paths of rivers. I suppose in one sense they are all conduits for water, and perhaps it is the water that forms the patterns of these things – that first and elemental ingredient of life, so much a part of our world. But regardless of how these shapes come to be, I find it fascinating that they are so universal.
Something about the aerial photograph of the river bed pulled me right in. I immediately felt connected to it – almost as though the universe was reminding me that we are all rooted together in one common experiment that is this life. From the rivers, to the mountains (which also have roots – beneath cavernous, winding tunnels and caves that make their way deep under the earth), to the trees, to our hearts – we are tattooed and marked by life, its patterns and shapes carved upon us and within us in our earliest stages of formation and growth.
We are bound together in something of a wondrous incomprehensible miracle. As much as we may try to understand the intricacies of all that is of our being, we will never fully grasp or know it all. And yet, there is something that tugs at my heart from the river bed – something that calls to my very being, that says we are one, we are in this together – that reminds me that my life and well-being are bound up in the well-being and life of all that is around me.
I recently returned from a trip to Wyoming, where the majesty of the Tetons, Wind River Mountains, and the painted hills of the Badlands took my breath away. On the ranch where we stayed there were carvings on rock walls – petroglyphs of an ancient culture – renderings of meaning, now lost in many ways to all who look upon them. But in the carvings one can sense a familiarity – not of meaning and culture, but of belonging. They, too, were a part of this world – connected to the landscape, the mountains and the trees, the water and flowing rivers that nourished their own hearts and bodies. Though the ancient artists are no longer, something of their spirit remains fixed on the walls, rooted in the earth, calling us to remember. Calling us to care. Calling our hearts to stay attuned to the things that we cannot fully know, but that connect us all.
We belong to this earth and all that is of it. We are an integral part of its history and its future. And we belong to more than this earth – to that which is beyond it, to a love that created and formed all that is and calls us into being, belonging, and belovedness.
May the breath of my lungs and the beating of my heart, echoed in the rhythms of the river as it flows through the mountains, and the wind that shapes the branches of the trees, keep me ever-rooted in the awareness of just how precious it all is; we all are. May I see in my neighbor the same patterns of belonging that are a part of my body and my being – the estuaries of life and time that unite us. May the reverence, respect, and awe for that design of God upon all that is, keep me a faithful steward, co-inhabitor, and compassionate ally of and in this world.
Take a few moments to view The Delta Series of Paul Nicklen.
Grab a map (or google one) and study the shape of the waterways – the rivers and streams, the way the water has given unique shape to the coastlines. Be reminded of the ways in which we are also shaped by forces and people around us, and our experiences of life.
For a printable version of today's reflection Click Here!
Blessing
God of mystery and intricate design,
Attune our hearts to patterns of creation that echo reminders of our connectedness to one another. May something of their beauty and wonder foster a deep sense of humility and belonging in our hearts, and keep us ever-working toward the flourishing of one another and all of creation. Amen.
A little Table Talk for your table...
Talk together about the patterns you notice throughout creation that might serve as reminders to us of our connection to the earth and to one another.
When have you felt a strong sense of connection to nature? Where were you? What did you learn through that moment?
What is a pattern or practice you can implement to remind you to, each day, be intentional about the ways you live in the world and in relationship with others (neighbors, friends, family, and strangers alike)?
Try taking it to the Kids Table...
Observe the shapes and textures of different landscapes and plants. Talk with your kiddos about the ways they were formed and what elements may have had a hand in their creation and the shapes you see (wind, rain, sunlight).
Discuss the ways we are shaped by different elements in our lives – environmental and relational.
Observe some shapes of nature: spirals in seashells, waves, and some plant vines; the veins of leaves and the lines on your child’s hands; the branches of trees and roots of plants, and the dried river beds of Paul Nicklen’s photography. What do the shapes make you think of? Where else have you seen these shapes?
Meet Our Welcoming Voice!
Rev. Daryn Stylianopoulos is originally from North Carolina, but has called Boston, MA home for nearly twenty years. She is a graduate of Wake Forest University and Boston University School of Theology and serves as a Baptist pastor in the Boston area. Daryn is an advocate for the marginalized and works against injustices in her community. She believes in creatively cultivating a spirit of cohesion, welcome, and healing in the world. A lover of art, music, gardening, and, most of all, family, she often looks to these for inspiration in her work and ministry.
To hear more from Daryn throughout the week, follow along on our Instagram!
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