Journal of Sacred Work

Consider the difficulty of looking at a painting like Turner’s Lake of Zug (viewable by entering in Google the phrase: "William Turner, Lake of Zug.") The first question in the mind of the average westerner is: What is it? The obvious answer comes – mountains, a lake, people. Now the heartbreaking part: Art museum studies show that the average viewer spends about seven seconds in front of a great art work. How hard it is to appreciate the gift of beauty in seven seconds.

What kinds of noise circle about you now? How is your attention, your presence to the deepest needs of others, your ability to hear the music of your own soul?

The forces of the world – schedules, agendas, lists – yank us from our center and toss us about so that we may feel like flotsam riding ocean cross-currents. Radios play, televisions sell their messages, e-mail asks for answers, cell phones shout, video games dance. Each calls like a siren for our attention. Your own thoughts may shout louder than all the other noise so that you are frightened to take the minutes of silent meditation your soul needs to help you thrive in this world.

Caught in the swirl, it is no wonder that America’s caregivers, beeped at, paged, blinked at by call lights, may lose touch with the core of their calling – to care for those in need, to offer healing, to be present to pain and joy – to be present to real light instead of its electric imitations.

Competing demands dilute our ability to heal with love. They interfere with our capacity to appreciate the beauty around us and to live our love.

Early caregivers understood the power of presence – the need to be heard and to be loved. Those who cultivate presence in long interactions are also more effective at being present in brief encounters. The practice of meditation is the exercise most likely to further our ability to be present to others. It is a gift we give ourselves and, in turn, becomes a gift we give to others.

Presence Meditation: Take a full minute with this lovely work, a painting by the mid-nineteenth century artist, William Turner. It is called The Lake of Zug – 1843. See how adding fifty-three seconds to the first seven affects your appreciation.

Poetry Meditation: Here is a brief meditation I wrote after looking at Turner’s Lake of Zug for a minute that was full and rich and peaceful for me.

Turner’s Lake

Outside me, three tree branches dance above bunches of nervous cars

driven by blank-faces waiting for red to go green, tires to turn, the radio to play the next song. Back within, I sit, close my eyes, open

my heart’s door. It’s time to visit an Alpine lake the way Turner watercolored one in 1843’s summer. The elbow of the steep blue mountain blocks the sun’s effort

to define itself. What light there is hazes the lake below. In the left distance, two men boat. In the right foreground, children rock-scramble. In the lower

left, two inch-high women thigh-deep the lake, wash clothes they aren’t wearing, air their skin near brown rocks & blue water. Near the dying man

I will care for today, others edge to the end of their earthly

visit. Today, I will take my patient’s hand, listen to his pictures. When he falls asleep,

I will stay awhile, pour out a blue lake, arrange some rocks around it.
Nearby, mountain peaks will pierce the sky, children play, women wash clothes &

two men will sway in a wooden boat that will never reach the shore.

A Gift For You:

What do you see in the painting now? How do you feel? Pick a painting or photograph of your own choice and give it to yourself as a gift to guide a personal meditation. Spend time with it – one minute, five minutes, twenty minutes. Then put it in one of your heart’s pockets and carry it with you across the day. This gift will become a present for all those around you.