practicing pilgrimage at home and abroad
Pronounced “hoo-gah” (its adjective is even better: hyggeligt, pronounced “hoo-gah-lee”), hygge can translate to “cozy,” and who doesn’t love that? It especially is attractive in the cold winter months. Multiple books have come out on the subject just this year, and even the New York Times has caught on to the trend.
What we wear can often be overlooked or undervalued when it comes to spirituality, and it’s true—part of the spiritual journey is about releasing unhealthy attachments to material items. But it’s also true that dressing ourselves can be a creative endeavor, and cultivating a spirit of creativity always leads us closer to the Creator, whom we are forever called to join in co-creation.
As co-creators we’re always soul-creators, infusing meaning into whatever we pursue. This time, the medium just happens to be apparel (which is one of the main ways we present ourselves to the world, by the way). Perhaps that’s why I love the idea of a capsule wardrobe so much. In a way, it seems like an external expression of the internal process of cultivating the true self, setting aside elements of the false self that hinder creativity, dampen joy, and disconnect us from the Sacred which we seek.
You won’t find “capsule wardrobe” in the dictionary just yet, but I define a capsule wardrobe as a minimalist wardrobe that is carefully curated, easily coordinates, and forever sparks joy. If you’re as intrigued by the process as I am, here are 5 tips to get you started that have helped me along the way:
I’m speaking on the Feast of St. Francis next Sunday at church, and since I’m devoting my posts in October to my 31 Days to a Meaningful Morning series, I wanted to share my reflections with you here ahead of time. You’ll find my sermon, along with the corresponding readings (my church gets a little creative with the liturgy) below.
Little Sam meets the ocean for the first time in San Diego, CA
Psalm 148:7-14
“Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver
Matthew 11:25-30
Apart from a cat that my family had for a season, I didn’t grow up with pets. Because of this, I could never fully understand the connection people had with their pets, particularly the dogs that yipped and barked and jumped up on me without my permission.
However, in February of last year, something within me shifted. I was reading Eckhart Tolle’s bestselling book, A New Earth, hungry to be more present in my daily life. In the book, Tolle says that, because of their connection to all of creation, animal companions can help bring us beyond the ego and into the present moment.
So when Kyle’s cousin called not long after, asking us to welcome her own dog into our home because she could no longer care for him, my “yes” was sourced from deep within. Sam is a rescue—a tiny toy poodle/terrier mix—who was dropped off on a stormy day outside a shelter four years ago around the age of ten.
Because of his past, Sam is a timid dog. Some might find this discouraging, but I’ve discovered it to be a gift. Sam’s vulnerability has brought forth within me a love that I have never known before. He has softened and humbled me, and as my connection to Sam grows, I also feel a growing connection to my True Self and to the Sacred in ways both wild and nurturing, simple and profound.
Now, I can’t imagine my life without Sam, or, as Kyle and I like to refer to him—Pups. And in moments when I get wrapped up in the demands of the world and the tasks at hand, I look over at Sam sleeping, and the gentle words of Mary Oliver in her poem, “Wild Geese”:
“You do not have to be good,” she offers. “You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.”
Mary Oliver’s words are not so different from Jesus’ invitation in Matthew 11:28: “Come to me, all that are weary and carrying heavy burdens,” he says, “and I will give you rest.”
What a welcome invitation this is in a culture where we can’t ever quite seem to do enough, have enough, be enough. It is the very gospel—literally, good news—that our world needs today, and it seems that things were not so different in the time of St. Francis nearly 1,000 years ago.
Image from the “Dancing Monk” series for Abbey of the Arts by Marcy Hall. Buy the print here.
As the son of a silk merchant, St. Francis grew up in wealth. He had the world at his fingertips and a prosperous future ahead of him in the eyes of the Italian aristocracy. However, a spiritual crisis as a young adult led him to abandon his wealth and instead take up a life of wild simplicity as he proclaimed the gospel of Jesus Christ.
St. Francis sought to so closely mirror the life of Jesus that he was the first person reported to have received the stigmata, bearing in solidarity the wounds of Christ. He lived the rest of his life attuned not to the world, but to the presence of the Holy Spirit within, advocating for peace in times of war, repentance in times of corruption, and simplicity in times of extravagance.
Vowing to live a life of poverty, St. Francis no longer measured abundance in material possessions but rather in the gifts of creation. He received joy not from the cares of the world, but instead through service, community, and, of course the animals whom he considered friends.
Conjure up images of St. Francis in your mind and you’ll likely picture a man in a simple brown robe, kneeling in prayer outside of a cave or with arm stretched out and a bird in hand. There are numerous stories of St. Francis preaching to and communicating with animals. And it is also well known that he held a deep reverence for creation, referenced in his Canticle of the Creatures in which he praises God for “Brother Sun,” “Sister moon,” “Brother Fire,” and “Mother Earth,” each in their own way pointing him to the Divine.
This, of course, reminds me of my dog, Brother Sam, and how he opens my heart, stills my soul, and fills me with gratitude—all things that draw me closer to my True Self and to God. Which makes me wonder—perhaps St. Francis had such a deep connection to animals not because he was a zealous evangelist fighting for birds’ souls, but instead because all of creation served as teachers on his spiritual journey, proclaiming to him a gospel of wild simplicity in a way that those of us wrapped up in things of this world often cannot.
“You have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants,” Jesus says in this evening’s gospel reading.
What if the mysteries of life do not belong—as our culture might make it seem—to those who make the rules, but instead to those who live simply—those whom the world considers “the least of these”? What if the Kingdom of God were not something to work toward in the future, but rather something that is experienced in the present moment as we practice the wild simplicity that was so well-modeled in both Christ and St. Francis?
And what if we were to remember St. Francis not by blessing the animals, but instead by being blessed by the creatures St. Francis so candidly revered?
How have you been blessed by animals? What have your pets taught you about the Divine and the path of wild simplicity?
Believe it or not, even though we’re just settling in here in Seattle, at the end of next week I’ll be heading off again for five weeks, with one week spent in San Diego, two weeks on pilgrimage with Christine Valters Paintner in Ireland, and two final weeks in Arizona as I finish up my spiritual direction training.
Needless to say, even though we’re still unpacking, I’ve got packing on the brain. I’m especially interested in packing wisely since I’ll be traveling to different climates—I’ll need a wardrobe that works well for cold rainy days in Ireland and sweaty 8+ degree days in Arizona. Since I don’t have much capacity right now to figure it all out from scratch (my clothes aren’t even organized to select from!), I’ll be looking back to last year’s “Dress for the Trip You Want to Have” guest post as a part of Dear Abby Leigh’s “Dress for the Day” series.
I thought I’d share it again with you here, too, in case you missed it last year and need a little packing inspiration for your upcoming adventure. Whether 5 days or 50, it’s always important to dress (and pack) for the trip you want to have. It makes a difference in your mood, I promise! Plus, it makes the load a little lighter.
In October, my husband Kyle joined me for his first trip to Europe. Since my travels have been so formative in the past, it was really significant to now be traveling abroad as a couple. Who knew what this new shared experience would bring?
Before we left, I planned to pack the same old stuff I’d worn on past trips abroad—clothes that are flexible, comfortable, sensible, and fit in the backpacking backpack serving as my suitcase. Packing for the off-season—cold weather clothes take up more room—meant I would have to bring even fewer pieces.
As the trip drew near and visions of tea time, the Eiffel Tower, and pesto danced in my head, I found my go-to travel wardrobe to be lacking in the inspiration department. When it came time to pack, I decided to apply Abby’s “Dress for the Day” mantra to my travel wear. I found inspiration to dress for the trip I wanted to have.
The trip I wanted to have was largely based on how I wanted to feel while journeying: I wanted to feel cozy in Scotland, confident in London, fashionable on the streets of Paris, and care-free when in Rome—because when in Rome…
Basically, I wanted to feel empowered and ready for adventure, and there’s no reason why my wardrobe couldn’t pull some of the weight on this new endeavor. With only a couple of new purchases and some rearranging, I managed to put together a new wardrobe to fit the bill.
Here it is, along with some tips of the trade and some photos of the wardrobe in action:
I know, I know, it looks all nice out on the bed. Here’s how it worked in action:
Any travel wardrobe tips of your own?