It's time for religion. Life slows down. I breathe. Deeply. And walk to the River. On the way I pass cars roaring, cyclists running, runners panting, as the trees breathe, slowly, deeply, watching.
There's pleasure in ambling. Walking to one's special place. Past sights that become so familiar. The wonderful native garden exploding with small chirping birds, so tiny they are hard to spot in the green leaves and even greener spider flowers of the Grevillea shiressii. Not far away, behind a high wire fence, stand three Acacia podalyriifolia trees, their blue-green leafy branches poking through the holes in the wire. They are one of my favourite trees and when in bloom, their bright yellow fluffy blossoms have an evocative slightly sweet earthy and musty aroma.
I wondered why not more of these lovely trees are planted in Brisbane, that is until I read an online message from the 'Save Our Waterways Now' which says that it's a popular plant and widely cultivated but it '[s]eeds freely and is invasive in natural bushland areas not in its range. It should not be planted in gardens in the vicinity of such areas. It has beecome [sic] an invasive pest in southern States.'
Feeling slightly chastened that the native tree I love goes wild outside of its own territory, I realise that the seeds I so carefully collected a few weeks ago can never be planted in this river-centred suburb lest the seeds escape.
My goal is the River. But there are things I have to deal with first. Roadkill. Today it's a Black Duck. I pick it up, tenderly, and carry it to the bushy roadside where I lay it down, cover it with leaves and say a small prayer. If I have a feather I plant it in the ground.
I reach the waterside and stop and breathe. The trees watch.
This is my special place. There's beauty here but something else too. Life is slower. In tune with nature's rhythms. Kingfishers sit in the high branches. Sea Eagles sometimes soar from their nest overlooking the River. Firetail finches and other small birds dance in the morning sunlight. Magpies graze.
Not long ago when I was weeding the embankment with the local bushcare group, we heard the church bells ringing in the distance. With her hands in the dirt, one of the women weeders exclaimed that tending the weeds and replanting the riverbank were more her kind of church.
Weeding and planting in community, this earthy work becomes sacred. It's slow work. Mindful work. Communal work. Work that's full of grace.
In her article in Religion, Media and Culture: A Reader, Monica Emerich (2012) writes about this process of going slow. She uses not the River and the beauty of walking, but what she terms is an ever-expanding religious and spiritual marketplace known as LOHAS or Lifestyles of Health and Sustainability. It's all about living slow, eating slow, and particularly 'savouring time' - taking time out for constructing 'an artful way of living' (2012:40).
Emerich describes the evolution of LOHAS, a term coined by an ecoliving entrepreneur in the 1990s. Although the expression was new to me, the slowing down concept was not. The Slow Food movement has gained wide acceptance and adherence. Tired of living in the fast lane, people are relishing slowing down over a shared and deliciously slow cooked meal, prepared with love.
To LOHAS practitioners, slow means 'being present', 'living mindfully', 'yearning for something more' (Emerich 2012:42-44). These comments emerged from Emerich's research interviewing people involved in the slow movement. They spoke about their commitment to living sustainability and practising social responsibility. What stood out in her interviews was their deep desire to 'infuse each moment with meaning' (45).
But LOHAS is not only a spiritual movement for enjoyable eating, there is a political message that underlines it - one that is critical of a fast-paced life with little time for reflection and sharing. It's a marketplace for slow consuming, conscious (eco)buying and spiritually engaged action, but action undertaken with beauty and mindfulness.
Walking to one's special place, taking time, breathing in the sights and sounds of the River in the early morning - this is my kind of slow religion.
Questions:- What is your kind of slow religion?
- Do you see a difference between styles of religious worship - from Buddhist mediation to fast moving evangelical services? Explain and describe.
- Is LOHAS a kind of secular spirituality - where people engage in a type of communal or ritual sharing around themes and issues that are meaningful to them? Explain your view.
Reference:
Emerich, M.M. 2012. The spirit of living slowly in the LOHAS marketplace. In G. Lynch, J. Mitchell & A. Strhan, Eds., Religion, Media and Culture: A Reader. London & New York: Routledge.
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