I am slowly (in a savoring sort of way) working my way through Ross Gay’s The Book of Delights and a few days ago I came to this amazing and epic run-on sentence (201 words btw) that was part of his reflection entitled, “Lily on the Pants.”
I know, I should know, given that a lily was the first flower I planted in my garden, and I pray to it daily in the four to six weeks that it offers up its pinkish speckling by getting on my knees and pushing my face in, which, yes, is also a kind of kissing, as I tend to pucker my lips and close my eyes, and if you get close enough you’d probably hear some minute slurping between us, and for some reason I wish to deploy the verb drowning, which, in addition to being a cliché, implies a particular kind of death, and I will follow the current of that verb to suggest that the flower kissing, the moving so close to another living and breathing thing’s breath, which in this case is that of the lily I planted six years ago, will in fact kill you with delight, will annihilate you with delight, will end the life you had previously led before kneeling here and breathing the breathing thing’s breath, and the lily will resurrect you, too, your lips and nose lit with gold dust, your face and fingers smelling faintly all day of where they’ve been, amen.1
If you’re like me, you might need to read it a few times. I adore the way he paints a picture with his words. I can close my eyes and imagine every part of it. And I adore the way that he describes the whole thing as a death and a rebirth that happens every time he gets down on his knees before these lillies. That expansive sentence of 201 words expands one reading it by bringing us into his experience and his story and his delight.
Thankfully we’re in flower-blooming time right now and so there is no shortage of flowers around to have a bit of an experience of this. With most of these, I got close - maybe not as close as Ross does in what he shares but still trying to experience a bit. I love the idea that getting close to something (or someone) expands our experience and our understanding. I also loved soaking in the expansiveness of the yellow flowers (last two photos) and how they are all in bloom right now. It is like an ocean of bright yellow blooms along the side of this path.
As I’m writing this and looking at these photos once again, I got thinking about the story of Jesus. In traditional Christian theology, it is believed that Jesus was somehow both human and divine in the same person who lived in ancient Israel during the first century CE. In reflecting on that story, Paul writes in Philippians 2 of all that Jesus emptied of himself to come into this life:
(Jesus) emptied himself,
taking the form of a servant,
being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death—
even death on a cross.
Paul goes on to share of how this led to an expansion of God’s love and mercy.
Therefore God also highly exalted him
and gave him the name
that is above every name,
so that at the name of Jesus
every knee should bend,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue should confess
that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.
Thinking about what Ross writes and connecting to this ancient story, I wonder if there was an expansion of understanding the reality of human life that came with Jesus’ life here? Did his coming into this life, walking the same dirty roads, feeling the same human experiences (life, death, birth), laughing, crying, eating, sleeping...what did that do? How was even God’s understanding expanded by this as well?
More expansiveness to come in the days ahead…
Grace, Peace, Love, Hope, and Joy,
Ed
PS - Scout’s new favorite garden…
Gay, Ross. The Book of Delights: Essays (p. 71). (Algonquin Books, Chapel Hill, NC). Kindle Edition.
Lily powder on the nose brands us with its beauty, hard to remove, rather like experiencing the touch of God.
Those flowers are so pretty!