I heard this from Kate Bowler recently on a podcast and it has stuck with me —
“Our lives are always for something even if the math isn’t quite obvious to anyone else but yourself.”
What occurred to me in contemplating this is that “the math” is sometimes obvious to me, not others, but that on occasion “the math” is obvious to others, not me. Which is, I suppose, what good friends and critics are for.
Contemplating the pandemic while looking at my desk.
Photo taken in Galveston a few weeks back. Text from Thoreau’s Walden.
I have this feeling of deja vu all over again that I sent circulated this one before. If so, here it is again. Photo taken in Galveston a few months back.
From Kate Bowler on a podcast recently listened to:
“I am letting myself off the hook for the feeling that there’s going to be a finished life for me.”
It is, on true reflection, a comical thought, isn’t it, even absurd if you have reached adulthood and “been around the block a time or two” — the thought (much less the expectation) that somehow, some way, all the loose ends are taken care of and everything is wrapped up in a nice, tidy, attractive package, the scissors and tape are put away in their place, and we get to the Post Office before it closes to drop the package off. Whose life is that?
I like Bowler’s pluck. No apologies. Like a voice mail that says: “You’re just gonna have to accept the package as is. I dropped it off on your doorstep late last night while I was out putting air in my tires because my low air pressure light came on in my car, or maybe it was just because the temperature dropped, anyway, it is in the Whole Foods paper sack my groceries were in last week. Sorry, one of the handles is unglued, and be careful, there are some fragile items in there. But anyway, there it is. Enjoy.”
Taken on a recent walk a few blocks from the house.
Today’s piece from Howard Thurman from Meditations of the Heart is entitled “I Seek Room for Peace.”
“I seek the enlargement of my heart that there may be room for peace. Already there is room enough for chaos.”
Pulling back and contemplating that, it lands a solid punch. And there is some schadenfreude in knowing that Thurman and I share a common struggle. No need to make room for chaos, “already there is room enough for chaos.” No, what I need to do is make room for peace. And this comes only by enlarging the heart, not by transplanting it — nothing that radical, but by enlarging it, by opening up that nous, by making a little more room to take something to heart, and doing that over and again, over and again, over and again…..
Photo recently taken in San Leon, Texas on a fishing trip.
This from Howard Thurman stuck with me this morning:
“I have been letting life grow dingy on my sleeve.”
Skepticism, cynicism, doubt – they all come naturally, at least for me, perhaps even more so in recent history.
Thurman’s remedy:
“I seek this day an active wonder.”
And his prayer:
“Teach me this day to expose to Thy scrutiny, my father, the frayed edges of me aliveness until they are renewed and freshened by they Healing and Thy Love.”
Another of those “mistake” photos, that ended up on my camera. Text from Anthony DeMello.
It occurs to me... 