A lonely cabin along Highway 17 sparked questions, then something more. Sometimes reflection finds you while you’re simply paying attention.
Driving back from a conference in New Mexico a dozen years ago, I spotted a cabin in southern Colorado along Highway 17, sitting all by itself far off in the distance. No roads that I could see. My mind started racing with questions.
How does the person living there reach it?
Why would someone build in such a remote place?
How do supplies get in and out?
Does the place have electricity? Running water?
How amazing would this look in the snow?
Then it hit me.
Unprovoked and out of the blue, an idea for a novel set along that stretch of road popped into my head. What if such a place existed but only a select few people could see it? And what if God was behind it all – an inn run by angels disguised as humans who ministered to their unsuspecting guests?
As I look back on that experience, I realize the idea was not born in a flash of inspiration as I once thought. It had more to do with questions that arose while I paid attention to what was right in front of me.
There weren’t many distractions on that stretch of Highway 17. Just river, distance, mountains and the occasional house or cabin where you’d never have expected one. That created space for contemplation.
And this is how my brain works. I generally don’t go seeking ideas. They come to me as I pay attention. And I generally don’t set aside time for contemplation. I contemplate as I notice.
This week, my wife and I were talking about the way we process. She called my process “passive contemplation,” while hers is more active. She sits with things on purpose. I tend to meet them on the way. She goes looking. I notice what finds me.
Not everyone processes life the same way. Some people need to sit or kneel to sort their thoughts, name what they feel and work toward clarity. Others find clarity while driving, walking, folding laundry, listening to music, watching television or staring at something unexpected in the distance. Neither way is superior.
I have a fear of looking unproductive or distracted. Maybe that comes from working at home for so long. But paying attention – drawing inspiration from what my five senses take in – inspires me, fills me, steadies me and often gives me exactly what I need in the moment.
I know that plenty of people need to be more active in their contemplation. But those of us who don’t shouldn’t feel guilty.
Not all reflection happens in a quiet room with an open journal. Sometimes, it happens on a highway in southern Colorado, staring at a cabin in the distance on a long drive home.
