My computer makes a noise when it is preparing to be helpful to me. A crackling sort of noise which I am sure is not a good thing. And some days, I continue to click click click click on the mouse as though prodding it - "come on, come on, come on, come on!!" And it just can't deal. It is still trying to wake up and get its act together. It is trying its best to turn x's and o's into emails and word documents for me, but it hasn't even gotten out of bed and it certainly hasn't had a cup of coffee.
So .... that means I must be still and look around and consider a thing or two in my ACTUAL surroundings as opposed to my internet world of ideas, images and words. Here goes ...
- Hmm. Maybe my brain is not working because I need to eat. Blood sugar is dropping so no matter how hard I prod my own mind to be clever and helpful and patient, it cannot. Listen to body. Hungry means something. I am going to go eat.
- That's better. I was overprocessing, just like my computer. Hey, there are my books. There are my journals. Wonder what I wrote in Cuba? Oh look. Some poems a friend gave me, tucked inside my Cuba book. Cool! Looks like they are Mary Oliver poems. Yay!
And, as is always the way when you let the world show itself to you, a path is revealed, even if only in a few words tucked away in an old book. Here is what I found and what I will breathe today. I will remember that in the quiet is not loneliness but everything else profound.
The Winter Of Listening
No one but me by the fire,
my hands burning
red in the palms while
the night wind carries
everything away outside.
All this petty worry
while the great cloak
of the sky grows dark
and intense
round every living thing.
What is precious
inside us does not
care to be known
by the mind
in ways that diminish
its presence.
What we strive for
in perfection
is not what turns us
into the lit angel
we desire,
what disturbs
and then nourishes
has everything
we need.
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