God is a Poet

I have been trying to get more in touch with my subconscious. I worked with a hypnotherapist, who showed me how to get into that deeply relaxed state where you can “reset” your pesky subconscious if it is struggling with some trauma.

Our conscious minds focus on the edges of things. This table where my coffee cup awaits. The slam of the door once I am in the car. Staying in my lane on a busy road. The twisting of the key as I open the door to the office, and know I have arrived at work.

My subconscious resets seem to revolve around getting away from the edges of things. The trick is to imagine yourself in a place where you feel completely safe. You can use a place from real life, but I suspect that many people have to make one up. I’ve noticed that all my subconscious reset scenarios involve either rain or snow. I wonder why?

I’m edgy when I’m focussing on life as it is determined by the edges of things. Anxiety slowly rises and rises.

Snow and rain do not operate with edges. They mist or swirl, they fill the air, they smooth the edges of trees, they erase the utilitarian edges that define the sidewalk and the road. To watch the snow drift down is to feel one’s fancy tickling the subconscious awake. Look! A marvel is at hand! The air has come alive!

Even now, when God’s intentions for these weather events has been disrupted by our own intense consumption, as a growing population pursues more and more things with edges, I sense the fancy of God behind the ways the skies and the earth interact over the work of moving water around this beautiful planet.

C. S. Lewis says our great sin is pride – which I understand to emerge when we compare ourselves to others.

Comparisons require edges.

Edge-statements look like this: The money in my account is not enough for me… my neighbors are not keeping up their property… this upscale new car shows people I am doing well.

I am growing more interested in the space between our edges, the space between mine and yours. The space where the snow is falling and covering the markers. Where the mist and the fog disrupt our normal vision. Something is happening in that space. There is work being done there. It is God’s work. I want to learn to see His poetic purposes

Claudia Hauer teaches at the college level, and loves watching young people turning into adults. She had an overwhelming conversion experience 5 years ago and is just learning to tell her faith story. She lives under the Rocky Mountains and loves to hike, run, and cook, and can usually be found with a book in her hands and a cup of coffee nearby.