Deep As A Well

Reflexion is polyvocal, which means that our message is told and our prayer is offered in multiple voices. These voices are as varied as our human members, so among them you will hear precision and metaphor, exploration and certainty, report and story. Every voice is beautiful and contributes something to the symphony of our spiritual community.

Here is one of the voices we always enjoy hearing.

I’ve been thinking about wells versus fountains today. Decorative fountains are fabricated and draw our attention by their beauty or the sound they make. They are useful to cover a less attractive area or to elevate it. Fountains move water in a way that is spontaneous, even joyful.

A well must be deep, purposeful. Wells need not be pretty or something to which the eye is drawn. But the well provides nourishment and healing through the water drawn from it. And the well feeds the fountain.

Both are necessary. My meditation and contemplation dig the well and secure me in my eternal source. This allows me to see and experience beauty. Although the well may be utilized to support the fountain experience, the well and its value to my soul stand alone.

I think of the well and the fountain in light of what Chuck shared Saturday evening regarding polarities and especially the seen and the unseen. Sometimes I must be a fountain–e.g., “How are you?” “Good!” “I’ve been doing this or that” or “God has been showing me this or that.” At other times I must return to the well–my (re)source. Spending time in that deeper place, being shaped there . . . .

I was pulling weeds on Saturday and inwardly complaining. I would have rather been planting flowers. It was hot and I wasn’t enjoying myself. Then a breeze came up and I remembered the story someone told of how laborers working in a rice paddy just stopped, stood up, relaxed their open arms, and received the breeze. I stood and, in that moment, connected to eternity as I accepted the cool air God provided.

This small experience was affirmed in Chuck’s message that evening. It was a shift in awareness and I sensed Jesus near me as my soul was refreshed. Life and eternity happening in the moment. A brief trip to the well, where I learned to sing, “He restoreth my soul.”

Jo Daxon