Wednesday, July 30, 2008
There is greater comfort in the substance of silence then in the answer to a question. Eternity is in the present. Eternity is in the palm of the hand. Eternity is a seed of fire whose sudden roots break barriers that keep my heart from being an abyss.
Thomas Merton, July 4, 1952, II 487
Walking to work this morning from the coffee shop, about a 5-7 stroll, I realized that a morning like this is my favorite kind of morning. It is warm. Clouds are hanging low but there is a promise of clearing in the western sky. The air is humid but not clammy; it still has the cleansed feeling of a recent rain. On morning like this I feel the promise of growth, the promise of a better series of experiences. Not too warm and not cool at all it is the start for what could be a perfect day.
My thought is that mornings like this seem promising because it was on mornings like this my life was better in my youth. A rainy day in school meant no outdoor recess and me the myopic kid would not get my ass kicked for my inability to play ball games in gym class. Corollary to that I would get more time to spend with my beloved books, science fiction tales where the hero was not the alpha male but rather just a clever person with odd bookish traits. I don’t deny these books were lacking in the formalities of great writing. Also there was sexism in these tomes but often the male hero had an equally capable female foil. Rainy days, coke bottle glasses and books about bookish heroes; life was simpler then.
Whatever the genesis my walk in today was six minutes of blissful peace. It was profound silence; it was eternity in the palm of my hand.
There is greater comfort in the substance of silence then in the answer to a question. Eternity is in the present. Eternity is in the palm of the hand. Eternity is a seed of fire whose sudden roots break barriers that keep my heart from being an abyss.
Thomas Merton, July 4, 1952, II 487
Walking to work this morning from the coffee shop, about a 5-7 stroll, I realized that a morning like this is my favorite kind of morning. It is warm. Clouds are hanging low but there is a promise of clearing in the western sky. The air is humid but not clammy; it still has the cleansed feeling of a recent rain. On morning like this I feel the promise of growth, the promise of a better series of experiences. Not too warm and not cool at all it is the start for what could be a perfect day.
My thought is that mornings like this seem promising because it was on mornings like this my life was better in my youth. A rainy day in school meant no outdoor recess and me the myopic kid would not get my ass kicked for my inability to play ball games in gym class. Corollary to that I would get more time to spend with my beloved books, science fiction tales where the hero was not the alpha male but rather just a clever person with odd bookish traits. I don’t deny these books were lacking in the formalities of great writing. Also there was sexism in these tomes but often the male hero had an equally capable female foil. Rainy days, coke bottle glasses and books about bookish heroes; life was simpler then.
Whatever the genesis my walk in today was six minutes of blissful peace. It was profound silence; it was eternity in the palm of my hand.
1 comment:
So while you're in "blissful peace", your wife is in excruciating pain? Let HER enjoy the walk!!!
Hope she's feeling better. And I neither want, nor need, to see a picture of the stone.......even if you can locate your digital camera!!!
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