"Reverence is the recognition
of something greater than the self-something that is beyond human creation or
control,  that transcends full human
understanding. God certainly meets those criteria. Reverence stands in awe of
something-something that dwarfs the self, that allows human beings to sense the
full extent of our limits-so that we can begin to see one another reverently as
well.  The easiest practice of reverence
is to simply sit down somewhere outside, preferably near a body of water and
pay attention for at least twenty minutes.With any luck you will soon begin to
see the souls in pebbles, ants, small mounds of moss, and the acorn on its way
to becoming an oak tree." Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World

Yesterday morning I took Barbara Brown Taylor's advice and spent more than twenty minutes sitting still, staring out at the glass surface of Lake Superior. With my first cup of coffee warming my hands in the cold morning temperatures, I simply sat, watching, allowing the stillness and beauty of the beginning of another day of my life wash over me. At first it was difficult to stop the jumping jacks my mind wanted to do. But somehow the calming influence of the water soon had its way with my busy brain. I found myself simply in a state of being. It was sheer gift.

As I watched the fishermen leave for the beginning of their work day, I was witness to their launch. I watched two grown men eating large cookies for breakfast, obviously fresh from their tents with hair sticking up all over their heads as it must have done when they were four years old. People walked their dogs with sleep still in their eyes as they were urged ahead by the next best smell of their furry friend. I watched as the world, at least my world, awakened.

I thought of the poet Mary Oliver's words: "I do not know what a prayer is, but I do know how to pay attention." Since so few of my mornings begin this way…sitting still…paying attention….I wondered how my days would be different if this became a regular practice. Of course the gift of the presence of Lake Superior does make a difference. It is impossible, I believe, to not find some sense of peace, perhaps even prayer, when looking out at what one of my traveling companion's called 'our ocean.'

If you are reading this, your day has already begun in whatever way it usually does. But tomorrow awaits. May you, may I, find a way to begin the gift of the next new day with at least twenty minutes of sitting still, of simply being. If a body of water is not near, may we find ourselves near some natural thing that can bring a similar rhythm of calm to our breathing. And in that breathing, in that sitting, may we see our own souls and their connection to all that lives.  May we begin our day….praying.