“Did you have a good Christmas?” asked the man standing next to me at the deli counter. “Yes,” I answered. “Did you?” He smiled and said, “I did.”
He wore a pendant made of semiprecious stone — one of my favorites.
“That’s a wonderful necklace,” I said.
“Oh, it’s all right,” he replied. “It doesn’t mean that much to me.”
“But that’s Tiger Eye,” I said. “ Do you know what it symbolizes?”
I started to tell him, but before I could, he took the necklace off and said, “I want you to have this.”
He held it in the space between us. I hesitated. He insisted. I accepted
and put the necklace around my neck. He said it was a gift from his sister.
Tears came to my eyes.
“Don’t cry,” he said gently. “I don’t want you to cry.”
“Thank you,” I said.
The young man behind the counter handed me a delicious burrito wrapped in brown paper. I turned my cart and headed down another aisle.
Moments later, the same gentleman approached me in the pet food aisle. “I want you to know a few things,” he said. I looked at him: a sketch of simple elegance in brown trousers, a camel cardigan over a brown turtleneck. His skin was the color of dark chocolate, and his cheeks each had a faint glow. His brown eyes appeared lit from within, each framed by exceptionally long lashes.
“I’m preparing to leave my earthly home,” he began, “not because I’m sick or anything. I just want to be ready. My mother died a few weeks ago at 95. Maybe that’s why I’m thinking about it. I put things on my porch so people could take whatever they wanted. The necklace is the only itemI didn’t put on the porch. I planned to go to the Iowa Park store today, but at the last minute, I decided to come here.” The other store was about 20 minutes away from the store we were in. He still had no interest in the Tiger Eye’s symbolism. He just waved his hand in the air when I brought it up again. He smiled and said, “Well, I better go. One more thing. Would you please pray for Emma Gardner? She has stage-one cancer. And would you pray for me? My name is Garrett.”
“Of course,” I replied. “Would you pray for me?” I asked as he walked away. He turned his head back, nodded, and moved on.
I’ve come to believe that attention to detail is the cornerstone (or more) of a foundation for spiritual practice. Details are where we say we find both God and the devil. German-born architect Mies van der Rohe (1886–1969) is often quoted as originating the expression, “God is in the details.” He likely read or heard this from German art historian Aby Warburg (1866–1929). Warburg taught a class titled, “Der liebe Gott steckt im Detail” (“The Loving God is in the Detail”). French author Gustave Flaubert (1821–1880) wrote “Le bon Dieu est dans le détail.” (“The Good Lord is in the Detail”). I’m sure more research can be done, but these three creative men still carry most of the credit for originating both the phrase and concept.
“The devil is in the details” became a common expression quickly after “God is in the details” spread. I can’t find a source for this and I wonder if Western Christianity with its perennial God and devil duo helped the “devil in the details” appear like a weed and grow apace with the other quotes.
Whatever we discover in detail, be it sacred encouragement or warnings of wickedness, that detail holds energy and meaning. This English noun began life as a verb, from the Old French tailler, “to cut.” De-tailler meant to cut away. Cutting away is how a tailor makes a pattern. Cutting away is at the heart of what an artist, editor, or craftsperson does. As a tailor cuts excess from a pattern to create a shape to be worn, a sculptor chisels stone to reveal the body hidden within. No cutting away of stone — no sculpture. Paradoxically, cutting away is integral to creating. Art in any form is never about simply adding — colors, elements, objects, or words.
Whatever its result, meaning, secret, revelation, or warning, we lose more than we can measure when we consider a detail small, and its smallness inconsequential. Too often we flick the details of our days away as though shooing a fly from the dinner table. Something tiny calls our attention, and we think, “That’s nice, but too small or fleeting to matter.” We notice for a fraction of a second, then look away, drive on, scroll down a screen, turn a page, leave a room, and return to routine, usually with a deadline attached. We think we don’t have time for details.
A burrito, a household clear-out, two strangers at a deli counter, and a friendly question about a holiday: these details entered into the infinitesimally refined synchronicity that no logic, philosophy, or science can explain. The details dovetailed into a divine gift.
I wanted a Tiger Eye stone for many years. The pendant this man gave to me was unlike any other Tiger Eye stone I’d seen. Usually, the gold and brown hues are striated and often some of these striations form symmetrical patterns. On this stone, however, the gold occurs in luminous flashes, looking like brush strokes left by a Zen calligrapher. Tiger Eye stones are not particularly expensive, but the symbolism attached to them is rich.
From Roman Empire times when gladiators put Tiger Stones somewhere on their bodies before battle, these stones symbolized courage, vision, guidance, and protection. Also often associated with Tiger Eye are confidence and discernment: two qualities that need each other.
The best gifts are ones we want and need that we cannot give to ourselves. We can have more of those gifts when we heed the details. When we give an extra second to the momentary, see the full moon in the small sliver of space between the slats in a blind, knowing that this perfect portrait does not depend on size, but perspective. Appearing as a detail, no bigger than a thumbnail to our eyes, the moon is still the moon, grand and gravitating, a cosmic metronome for Earth, keeping the tides in time.
A gift waited for me at a small grocery store. Before I entered that common community space, details had gathered and converged to provide at least two gifts: the natural and material object I wanted; and spiritual guidance I needed. A reminder to have courage, trust invisible protection, rely on wordless guidance. You never know when you will receive a gift crafted from details from a divine source. It will be for you only. It will appear when you need it to. It won’t be big, most likely, but it will be meaningful. It will be important.
When that happens, it will be a good time then to use the wise and beautiful Spanish expression: Gracias por el detalle. Thank you for the detail.
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