Letter from the Editor
If you passed a beautiful flower garden every day, would you stop and smell the roses? I don’t think I necessarily would. I wish I could say that I would take a break and enjoy a quiet moment, but I know from too many past experiences that I would probably be in a hurry, rushing to my destination, likely late. Maybe on those rare occasions when I wasn’t pressed for time I would pause and consider a few blossoms for a moment. However, would I let myself linger among the fragrant blooms and savor the moment? Probably not.
Have you ever been to a fancy food or wine tasting where the guide asks you to first identify various nuances before taking a bite or a sip. Look, smell, swirl! Notice the texture, the color, the feeling! You try to do it right, but those subtle notes everyone else is talking about seem out of reach, or maybe simply made up. So, though you know you should be enjoying the tasting experience, you really want to forgo all the “savoring” and dive in like you normally would.
Like most good habits that we want to acquire, learning to slow down and savor life’s little moments and pleasures takes time. Time and patience. In his essay “Learning How to See Again,” Josef Pieper notes:
“At table I had mentioned those magnificent fluorescent sea creatures whirled up to the surface by the hundreds in our ship’s bow wake. The next day it was casually mentioned that “last night there was nothing to be seen.” Indeed, for nobody had the patience to let the eyes adapt to the darkness.”
We cannot see because we don’t have the patience to let our eyes see. Rather than waiting and entering into the mystery before us, so often we simply rush, get bored, and give up completely.
Learning to be moved by beauty is a slow process. It requires pausing, listening, and watching with the eye of your soul. So often we don’t want to slow down. We want to keep going, to move on, to crank up the volume, hit the accelerator, and rush onward and upward. We’re told to “go for it,” to “just do it.” In the fast-paced world we inhabit, it’s rare to be told to wait for an unknown period of time, to be patient, to savor life uninterrupted.
This issue’s writers offer a refreshing change from the fast-paced messaging that so often fills our lives. From the unique objects we collect in our homes to our grandmother’s famous tortillas, seasonal traditions to housework, vinyl records to hungry toddlers wishing for ice cream, the pages of this issue show us that everything in life, and indeed every moment, can be cherished. Though we may not have a beautiful flower garden to dally in every day, there are countless occasions to savor life’s blessings.
Once upon a time, as little children, we had eyes full of joyful wonder and ears that delighted in repetition, as both Barbara Gonzalez and Bonnie Kate Stine so beautifully remind us. But it seems that those senses weaken as we grow and the endless tasks of grownup life fill our calendar. Reawakening those senses, or as Josef Pieper calls it, “learning to see again” requires constant practice. On two occasions this week I saw a beautiful flower and—with this “savoring” theme in mind—bent over to pause and smell it for just the slightest bit of time. Though neither moment captured the rich essence (or perhaps even virtue) of savoring, they were a beginning.
Little by little, step by step, we must train our feet to slow down, our mind to pause, and our hearts to delight in the beauty, blessings, and abundance around us. Perhaps one day, when we are old enough, we will learn to see the world with childlike love once more.
-Rachel Gerring, Executive Editor
