Again the cool crisp air of mourning fills the house. Shifting from the forward momentum of the last hour, rising and leaving the bedroom, into the reflective moments, arriving to the desk, coming full stop to discover which words will step forward to call in the moment.
The quiet audio scape, the distant freeway, Courtney settling the affairs of the morning, even the subtle hum of the hard disk on my desk makes itself audible in this moment.
I noticed the shift in story, writing in the morning, in contrast to the evening. The familiar narration of concrete events gives way to a different sensation, one of open spaciousness and possibility for the day to come.
Is there something lost of the “post game reflection” benefits? Is there something gained by focusing on the fields of possibility represented in the cool, still, moment of the present?
The Monday to do list is literally bursting off page. Most of the reading, and some of the correspondence was completed yesterday. Sense of context remains elusive. Traffic, it has been reported to me, has been picking up of the last week and particularly this morning. The news indicates various efforts around the country to “reopen” the economy, such as it is.
The mystery of the pandemic looms – is it coming to a close? Will we see a resurgence? If so, what will be its character? If it goes now, what sense will it leave in its wake? Have we been rattled to the core yet? Has our various identification with self and role and society been upset in some way that will become detectable as we moved to “reassemble?”
Economic and political forces yet beyond my adequate comprehension remain in motion, enormous inertia present as well as acceleration across multiple dimensions and scales. Social unrest, thus far largely harmless and, as reported, almost petty appears muted, for now.
The bill’s roll in, the earth spins on, the moons circling about, approaching its next “full” phase. Collectively we’ve gained a moment of somewhat clean-air, resurgences of wildlife, cleaner water perhaps. We lost these things gradually before, will we give them up easily again?
My own sense of context remains elusive… As “everywhere is falling everywhere…” The seed of creation in the midst, the intention to do good, to offer value, to rest in beauty, I continue to nurture, with the work that I can see at hand.
Not thinking or strategizing for the future feels irresponsible, and at the same time difficult. I wonder is it best that I should expand that sense of intention from the seeds of a personal morality, returning to previous as well as novel visions of a concrete clarity of possibility.
I did most of the reading. There is always more reading. I did much of the correspondence, there is always more correspondence.
Perhaps I will find a moment for poetry today. Let this be a prayer that today BE poetry.
A different story, the same story.
Lest I fail to honor my own friendships, please consider joining the community of those who have already contributed to the campaign to keep this work moving forward!
God gets to know things, we just get to ask questions…