The behind the scenes look at The Artist’s Deck has been primarily reserved for paying subscribers, but in Thanksgiving for you, dear friends, I’m opening this article up to all subscribers. I am deeply grateful for your support and encouragement. Thank you for your steady generosity and kindness.
While October brought burning bushes en masse, November curled those same fiery leaves into a deep burnt orange that takes my breath away. I mean that literally. I have been left agape at the wonder of the turning. This response feels holy. It is holy. I am captivated by the dying, but I know that my captivation is born out of a belief in resurrection. If I believed that the trees were dying forever, I would find this burning devastating. My fascination in the transition is tempered by holding a distinctly hopeful perspective, despite all appearances. Being cognizant of the specific lens through which I view the world reminds me to be mindful that others have their own lens.
To See for One’s Self
The other day, after hearing the word, autopsy, during a podcast, I did a knee-deep dive into the world of autopsies.1 I won’t waste space here getting into the weeds about how this word wormed through my brain, but as I researched it, I couldn’t help but draw parallels between an autopsy and the spiritual practice of the Examen. Tracing its origins, I learned that the word, autopsy, is derived from the Greek word, autopsia, which means “the act of seeing for one’s self”2. At its most stripped down definition, an autopsy is a meticulous examination of a body, a calculated and measured look at what is, as it is in the moment of examination. It requires rapt attention to detail. It is the work of unbiased noticing3 (and making note). What seems unusual? What might have happened here? How did things get to be the way they are? This careful examination is measured against a framework of unequivocal truths about the human body.
The Examen is the prayerful work of noticing. While practicing the Examen we take time to thoughtfully, and intentionally reflect on the places one encountered God in our day. When I work through the Examen for myself, I try to step outside of my own biases and imagine that things may not be as flat as they appear on the surface. I try to imagine that just because I didn’t see God at work in a particular moment, doesn’t mean that God was not at work. When this feels particularly challenging, I return to what I know to be true about God. God is always present, everywhere, all at once. Nothing happens apart from God’s all-seeing eye. God loves me, etc… Holding onto the plumb line of these Truths while noticing, with curiosity and generosity towards myself and others, helps me feel free to explore the spiritual layers of my own life. Is it possible God was at work in the most difficult parts of my day? Is it possible that God is weaving, even now, the bitter threads of disappointment and discouragement, into some bigger tapestry of grace? There are layers to unpack, and things are not always as simple as they appear at first glance.
What happened here? Where does it hurt?
Though the examen can be practiced in a relatively short amount of time, it is intended to be a careful consideration of situations and experiences. The Examen invites us to see for ourselves where God was present to us in our day, to notice what shifts internally when the awareness of God’s presence comes into focus. What changes for us when we imagine the places where the Holy Spirit was on the move? How does this tint the lens through which we see our day, our life, our relationship with God and others?
While I haven’t been practicing the examen in my journal, my Artist’s Deck has been a place of similar practice for me for months now. When I sit down at the art table, I am noticing what I’m being drawn to, what colors and textures and words seem to strike me in the moment. Rather than judge myself for these nudges, I practice being open to what is stirring, and find repeatedly, that God is present to me in the making. I find that the art is helping me answer questions like, what happened? Where does it hurt? What caught you by surprise? Where did you see God move? Where do you need God to move? Did that experience cause you to draw nearer to God or withdraw from Him? Can you give thanks in this season anyway?
October was a melancholy month of personal reflection here, as I looked back over some of the broken bits of old wounds. Like sorting for the missing puzzle pieces, I let the questions come to the surface, and when I did not know the answer easily, I waited and wondered about the possibilities. I named the wounds and practiced seeing them from the other’s perspective. I looked for God in the rehashing and found that indeed, the Spirit was quite present. The puzzle of my own life still has its holes. As I take an autopsy of this season, I am noticing what is, what was, what might have happened, and drawing conclusions about places where I need healing, growth, forgiveness, grace, and so on.
The work begins simply by noticing—what do you SEE?
November is nearly over and the start of the Advent season is just over the horizon. Advent marks the beginning of the church calendar, and is one of the most beautiful and often difficult seasons for many. What is it about holidays that stirs up our grief? Why do the lights and glitter of festivities seem to prick out tender places? I have my suspicions and would encourage any and all of us to make some room in these final November days to practice an autopsy of our own season, to sit with the questions the Examen offers and see for ourselves what’s being churned up. Curiosity here can be a great gift to us. I’m confident that God is always ready to meet us in our wondering ing (and our wandering).
I’m using my Artist’s Deck as prompts for my own reflections as I perform an autopsy of this season, and if you’re not sure where to begin, perhaps these cards will serve as prompts for you as well? Even better—join me for this practice live (via Zoom) in January.
Here’s all of the Artist’s Deck cards for October and November
The Artist’s Almanac is on sale now! Part inspiration, part art fodder, this little collection includes art from mixed media artists from around the world. I’m honored to have a handful of my own art pieces included in this project.
Join me as we practice an Autopsy Of A Season at the start of the New Year. All are welcome, no artistic experience necessary.
Join me this February for a 2-day Refine {the retreat} experience in a new format. Seasons Of The Soul is a creative conversation and workshop around how to engage with God through spiritual practices during the different seasons of our lives. If you’ve ever wanted to attend one of my retreats, but found it outside of your budget, this is for YOU.
There are two new episodes of Refine{d} the Podcast out! One with Artist, Jeanne Oliver and one with Spiritual Director, Julianne Clayton. I highly commend both episodes to you.
The jokes about the strange google history of writers is very real. I was reminded of this while searching out information on the practice of performing autopsies. As you can likely imagine, my quest for information took me down some interesting rabbit holes.
https://www.britannica.com/topic/autopsy
While it may be impossible to be completely without bias in our noticing, the practice of curiosity and imagination are helpful in imagining something outside of our favored scope or perspective. This is akin to the idea of “walking around in someone else’s shoes” to experience the world as they do. The practice of unbiased noticing helps us expand our perspective on all manner of things. This is challenging work, and if the mere idea of this work triggers fear or anxiety, begin there. Suss out what in particular is feeling prickly before moving on. It is helpful to remember that imagining from a different perspective doesn’t mean we have to agree with it, forsake our own convictions, etc.
This is so beautiful, Kris.