The
mountains are still snow-capped. It is
seventy plus degrees outside with a cooling wind. Today’s bicycle ride was wonderful; I don’t
know if it was the sleep or the change in weather but I felt exhilarated. I pedaled and thought about beauty.
I queued
Queen on Spotify---don’t ask me why.
Listening to ‘You Take My Breath Away,’ I remembered why. I enjoy their
music. Though not the gospel music I
usually listen to; there’s a beauty that overarches the earthiness of most of
Mercury.
There are
blocks of time; days and weeks of gray where I live in-between busy and sloth
where I just go to work; come home to my wife, touch base with my kid—then do
it all over again. God still exists
during these times; I barely live like He does.
It’s a slow-motion-blur.
When I’m in
the mountains or at the beach I think, “It would be great to live here.” I would miss the beauty living those places
as much as I skip over and miss the beauty living life where I’m at. This noticing beauty; this breathing out
thanksgiving, is (like so much of life) a discipline. A battle to behold beauty in the everyday.
So I remind
myself again (How many times, Lord?) to live fully when the pendulum is
swinging hard to busy or bending slow to sloth.
And in the in-between times I trust grace and lean on beauty trusting
she’ll pull me out of the gray.
1 comment:
Or, as David Foster Wallace wrote in "This Is Water,"-- "...if you really learn to pay attention, then you will know there are other options. It will actually be within your power to experience a crowded, hot, slow, consumer-hell type situation as not only meaningful, but sacred, on fire with the same force that made the stars: love, fellowship, the mystical oneness of all things deep down."
--Glenn
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