A Perfect Day

Last updated on: July 11, 2014 at 11:25 am by Cat Chapin-Bishop

A Perfect Day 2014-07-11T11:25:20-04:00 Cat Chapin-Bishop

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

I am running an experiment in perfection, and yesterday, I had a perfect day.

I worked in the garden. Cabbage moths have infested the pac choi. The tomato supports are failing, and their branches trail the ground.

I drank coffee, read a book and tried to meditate in the sun. I was sleepy, and the coffee had gone cold.

I stretched, and walked down to the end of the lawn to salute the gods at our outdoor altar. I felt the life in my connection to my gods again. I bowed to them and said hello. The icons on our altar are different heights, and do not look like gods. Anyone but me would probably think that they are absurd.

I made lunch from vegetables I’d grown in our own garden. The mustard greens are getting old, and the salad was slightly bitter because of them.

In the afternoon, I walked to the beach, a beach chair strapped to my back. It was good to feel my muscles working, and it was good to feel the water against my skin. Ugly pollen floated on the water. After a while, the beach chair hurt my back. The homeward walk was hot and sticky, and it gave me a headache.

I picked black raspberries behind my house. There are so many of them, they burden the canes. I stabbed my thumb with an especially large thorn, and my arms and legs are scratched all over. Mosquitoes ate me alive.

Friends came over for dinner. We shared intimate talk, and wine, and food. It was too hot in the kitchen to cook. Sweat stuck to my skin and stung in my scratches. My headache got worse and worse as it got late.

I never wanted the day to end.

I never wanted the day to end.

Because I am a school teacher whose only child is an adult, every year I have a chance to re-invent my life.

One of the frustrations of my life during the school year is how little time I have for any outward practice of religion. From Labor Day through the end of June, my daily spiritual practice is the meditation I perform behind the wheel of my car in the morning; that is the only time I’ve found to sneak it in. While the summer vacation of a modern school teacher is not the mythical oasis most Americans imagine (it’s two months long, not three, and three weeks of it actually belong to continuing education and prep for the coming year) it still grants time to experiment with my life.

What an amazing luxury! Every year, I get to ask myself, what is the right way to live? In particular, what is the right way to live a spiritually-centered life? What would my spiritual life be like on a perfect day?

Of course, starting out with such grand questions in my mind, I set my expectations much too high. My summers always begin in disappointment, as I must relearn that Nirvana can’t be booked like a room in a seaside hotel. Reality never seems cooperative with my experiments in spiritual balance. The house is grubby after a year of neglect, there are countless chores calling for attention, and typically, the summer begins with several muggy, mosquito-plagued days to make me feel glued to the couch, slothful, resentful, and depressed.

But I rally. Eventually, I remember how to cope with having time off. Eventually, I remember that spiritual balance and contentment are built, brick by brick, and that it is not the having but the building that is satisfying. I remember, and I begin my experiment again.

Yesterday was the day I began to remember how it is done. I remembered the place of balance in a Perfect Day. I remembered the place of imperfection.

For me, for this Quaker Pagan mystic, a Perfect Day will include thorns. It will include mistakes, and bitterness… work and stillness; solitude and company; the cool relief of lake water and the sweet tang of a raspberry on the tongue. Inevitably, I will savor my raspberries at the very moment I hear the whine of a mosquito in my ears.

A Perfect Day means taking time, and being present, and being real.

Perfection is ordinary. I am the one who must change.

Previous Post

July 6, 2014

Here I Am, Wasn't I

Next Post

July 18, 2014 A Pagan Isaiah

Browse Our Archives

Select a Category Cat's posts Peter's posts Uncategorized

Select a Month March 2017 February 2017 November 2016 July 2016 June 2016 May 2016 April 2016 February 2016 January 2016 December 2015 November 2015 October 2015 September 2015 August 2015 July 2015 June 2015 April 2015 March 2015 February 2015 January 2015 December 2014 November 2014 October 2014 September 2014 August 2014 July 2014 June 2014 May 2014 April 2014 March 2014 January 2014 December 2013 November 2013 October 2013 September 2013 July 2013 June 2013 March 2013 February 2013 December 2012 November 2012 August 2012 July 2012 June 2012 April 2012 February 2012 January 2012 November 2011 October 2011 September 2011 August 2011 July 2011 June 2011 May 2011 April 2011 March 2011 February 2011 January 2011 December 2010 November 2010 October 2010 September 2010 August 2010 July 2010 June 2010 May 2010 April 2010 March 2010 February 2010 January 2010 December 2009 November 2009 October 2009 September 2009 August 2009 July 2009 June 2009 May 2009 April 2009 March 2009 February 2009 January 2009 December 2008 November 2008 October 2008 September 2008 August 2008 July 2008 June 2008 May 2008 April 2008 March 2008 February 2008 January 2008 December 2007 November 2007 October 2007 September 2007 August 2007 July 2007 June 2007 May 2007 April 2007 March 2007 February 2007 January 2007 December 2006 October 2006 September 2006 August 2006 July 2006 June 2006 May 2006 April 2006 March 2006 July 2000

TAKE THE

Religious Wisdom Quiz