Devotion As A Creative Act

"The real work of the artist is a way of being in the world.” Rick Rubin

(art by Marc Chagall)

As this world seems, yet again, on the precipice of its own destruction, I find myself preparing my coffee, staring out at a misty, rainy garden. The only color is the bold yellows of the daffodils. I poured the coffee in my favorite ocean-blue glazed mug with a golden-brown rim that matches the bowl I eat my yogurt and berries in. This is a small aesthetic pleasure to remind myself that, even in such mundane details, beauty matters.

I sit down at my kitchen table, sip my coffee and read a poem.

I don’t rush through the poem but savor the language in the same way I do the fresh berries in my breakfast. Since it’s the weekend I don’t have to rush, but can fully inhabit my morning unfolding.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a Black-capped Chickadee at the kitchen window feeder.

I do not have my phone. I am trying to live in a world that is more than mere distractions, mere surface, and endless noise.

Sarah Orne Jewett wrote in a letter to Willa Cather, “You must find your own quiet center of life.” Wise words that I am trying to live by. A quiet center requires of one: attention, devotion and intention. All three of these things are woven inextricably together.

Devotion originates from the Latin word devotionem, which means a vow or dedication, and stems from devovere, which means to consecrate oneself. There is more than one Gaelic word for devotion. One of the is diograis and I love that it means fervor, intensity and deep attachment. Deep attachment requires of us to go beyond ourselves to the very world around us.

Too often we assign devotion to religion, but this is a narrow view of something that offers the opportunity to enter into a gracious, loving engagement with life, nature and the divine In Upstream, the poet Mary Oliver writes, “Attention is the beginning of devotion.” More and more, I am learning how attention is one of the most sacred acts we can attend to.

This morning, I am giving my full attention to the changes in natural light and the shifts in shadows.

I am slowly eating my breakfast so I can taste the berries and the yogurt and fully appreciate them.

This kind of devotion is not a rigid duty but a quiet, disciplined commitment to listening, presence and intimacy. Devotion draws one out of an empty life of rote routine into more sacred rituals be it drinking one’s coffee, eating one’s breakfast, listening to birdsong, watching the clouds, noticing the daffodils…