Monthly Archives: September 2010

There’s always a little Rumi for improvement.

I am thankful because today is a day without deadlines, without priorities, without clear and precise guidelines. This is not to say that any day has them, necessarily.

I woke up early today and slowly rolled out of bed. I ate a hearty, un-heart-friendly breakfast, and proceeded to walk along the campus, watching the sun rise between the trees, thrusting rays between branches.

I took a shower, enjoyed the warm water, and thought of cleansing. Both physical and otherwise. Of cares of the week before, of busy-ness. There’s something renewing about the feeling of the worries and troubles of everything past rising up out of your skin before being brushed away.

I ran my fingers up and down the neck of my banjo. I heard the chords and notes resonate off into the distance, bouncing off the walls of the dimly lit room, only brightened by the sunlight pouring through the windows to the outside world. I laughed at my inability to play in a technically sound manner.

I talked to people. Made silly jokes with my roommate, made silly jokes with friends hundreds of miles away. There aren’t enough silly jokes in the world, I think we’re all a little too uptight sometimes. Our desire to control what is beyond our control does that sometimes.

Now, I’m staring out a window again.

Well, two windows. Maybe three.

My laptop screen, the window into an artificial world, a world of zeros and ones.

The window to my right, where the sun resonates, but from a different angle than it did hours past. Shadows trace buildings, grass, cornfields, cars.

And the window into the soul, of the poetry I’ve been reading all afternoon.

I drink my coffee slowly, exhaling so that it rises up against my face, fogging my glasses. Most times, I sip my coffee as though it were water. But today I focus on making the most of each moment.

I read somewhere not too long ago that stillness is more difficult than busy-ness. It requires concentration, endurance. And today, in the absence of “goals” and “tasks”, I focused instead not on loneliness, or creating diversions, but rather soaking up this fine day.

Today, I am thankful for relishing. For peace. For humbly strolling, and the renewing, the energy that comes from that. Amen.