A Change of Perspective

I’ve had a head cold for the past five days — which, in a monastic setting, calls for modified isolation to help prevent it from spreading to others. Therefore, during communal prayer times I’ve been stationed by myself in the choir loft, and I’ve been eating dinner and supper alone on the patio or in my bedroom. It’s not a situation I would have chosen, but it has given me some new perspectives I wouldn’t otherwise have obtained.

Being in the choir loft has helped me hear the unity of our chanting and see the beauty of our chapel in a more wholistic way than when I am in my choir stall. Yesterday when the community sang “Light our way, O God of the living, / May we learn to see with new eyes!” from God Is Alive by David Haas, it took on a new meaning as I contemplated the string of pendant lights now at eye level that seemed to be lighting the way to eternity. Sometimes seeing with new eyes requires a literal change of perspective.

Eating outside by myself also has been a meditative sensory experience. I’ve been serenaded by crickets and a wind chime with a lovely tone, caressed by breezes, cheered by flowers and grasses, awakened to the taste of my food, and entertained by hummingbirds.

Furthermore, being sick gives me permission to do what seems impossible otherwise —set busyness aside and dive into some novels (A Canticle for Liebowitz by Walter M. Miller, Jr., Still Life With Bread Crumbs by Anna Quindlen, and The Painted Drum by Louise Erdrich thus far).

Often, we experience a change of perspective only when we are forced to by illness, loss, or the actions of others. Although the circumstances often are outside our control, we always have the choice of how to respond — and when we expect God to be with us no matter what we encounter, we can anticipate hidden blessings to materialize through the opportunity to “see with new eyes.”