"This is all that matters: that we can bow, take a deep bow. Just that. Just that."
~Eido Tai Shimano

Have you taken a deep bow lately? There are so many situations in life that call for us to bow. Yet not many of us do. It is not something we do with regularity in our Western culture, certainly not in America.  For the most part we are moving too quickly to bow. And if we all took up this gracious move at the warp speed in which we live, there would be a terrible knocking of heads.

Over the last few days, I have had several experiences that could have used a bow, a deep bow. One of the dear saints of our church passed on into eternity this week. We have all known her as someone who was rarely, if ever, without a camera. After her death, a family member delivered two large boxes of pictures chronicling the life of our church – our lives – over the last decade. Each photo was full of faces, joyful faces, caught in the act of celebration. She had a knack for zeroing in on people's faces not only with her camera but with her smiling eyes, savoring and then saving their resplendence. As I looked at image after image, I was humbled by her ability to catch us all at our best. The gift of her keen eye helped remind me of all that is right with the world. I should have bowed deeply out of gratitude.

A young woman I have watched grow up gave birth to her first child this week. I happened to be present when her grandmother came to see this beautiful boy, her first great grandchild. The anticipation with which this woman approached this tiny one cradled in my arms shown all over her face. As I handed the baby into her arms, I caught a glimpse of the generations connecting in the breath we all shared. What I should have done as I backed away was to have taken a deep bow, breathing in the  Mystery in which we all stood.

Today I was sitting on my deck, the sun streaming through clouds trying to whip themselves into the frenzy of a summer afternoon rain when a monarch butterfly made its way from purple cone-flower to orange day-lily, swooping, sweeping from flower to flower.  Its colorful wings danced in the heat, lighter than air, floating with the grace of a ballerina. I stopped what I was doing and watched, my face slowly emerging into a broad smile. If I had done what I should, I would have untangled myself from my chair and bowed deeply to the beauty of fragile wings.

Each day provides many opportunities for bowing, deeply bowing. If we really allowed ourselves, we would begin bending at the waist, allowing our head to dip reverently, embracing what really matters.