Friday, December 18, 2009

I don't really know how to blog, or what one writes on a blog, so I'm just going to let loose. I have big plans of explaining myself someday, as to why an insignificant creature such as I would hope to express myself... but tonight is not the time. Other thoughts are coursing about my mind, and compulsion has it that they must come out.
I worked a double tonight, and in between shifts I exercised, which increased my levels exponentially so that, when I returned I was abuzz with all the glitter and joy of Christmas. I was reading the "Pursuit of God" on the bike, and reading about removing the veil of self in our lives... I was ashamed of my short-sightedness, and of my tendencies to be "always learning, and never coming to a knowledge of the truth," and that my abiding is less than desired. I took to the rowing machine and closed my eyes and pumped with all the vigor this vessel possesses. I thought of the all the pretense of Christmas, and I resolved that I would burst if I did not inform everyone of the meaning of it. I pulled again, and reminded myself (deeply) of the meaning of Christmas, and preached that blessed good news to my needy soul, and headed down to shift two.
A frail old woman had her face to the fire and her eyes were glossy with age. She had a swirl in her hair and wore a red wool blazer upon her withered frame. She couldn't quite hear, and her gaze spoke straight through the room. All that her eyes have seen, and I couldn't quite help but wonder if her wordless glances spoke "vanity, vanity, all is vanity!" Her young family seemed to forbear with her inabilities and I couldn't help but stare, miss my grandmother, and think of how foolish we must look to the elderly--or to anyone with wisdom. I think often of these things and they can vex my spirit. I also think we might gain a lot if we stopped to listen. Joan Baez had a song about this, here's a stanza:
"You know old trees just grow stronger,
old rivers grow wider everyday,
but old people they just grow lonesome
waiting for someone to say, hello in there, hello."
So that's an admonition, but I'm not done. Oh do I encourage us all to take several steps back! To contemplate, to be laid bare, to be made humble. We are a noonday shadow, a passing cloud, a teetering toddler ... And to whom do these elements receive their a. light b. moisture c. steps? Each comes, and is gone before reckoned with. Consider these things for more of this [mono]logue is sure to come.

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