Yesterday about killed me. More accurately, it wasn’t yesterday’s fault, it was my fault.
I love getting things accomplished. I love having nothing to do. Both are facets of what I consider my stewardship—those things and no-things I’ve agreed to take on (including my own well-being or not).
Yesterday put the kibosh on me. I was so oriented towards accomplishment that I might secure that magical sense of nothing pending, I lost my sense of presence and well-being. As a result, my body threatened to quit on me.
It wasn’t the first time in recent months—in fact I can easily trace this particular round of stupidity back more than a year. There is no point in making the very real list of demands—they were and are very real, objective, demands. It was my subjective reality that struggled. My writings reflect that struggle and my attempts to discover and recover wonder and wisdom. There are like me warning myself—and for good reason.
Here—again for the umpteenth time—is what I discovered when I was able to step back from that biological edge where I had pushed myself: There is no time in my life, no struggle, no freedom, no time of dark or light, in which the beauty of discovery and wonder are unavailable. It is not so much what that discovery or wonder is, it’s that it is always available. It’s like discovery and wonder can never be denied, it can only be ignored. The litmus test, at least as far as I can see, is how I face my death. In-between birth and death, it’s how I face my life. Yep, it might be too late for some things to change back and yep, there is a price to pay for what I ignore, but it’s never too late to see the beauty of discovery and wonder.
I survived yesterday. It’s grace and a wonder and I am grateful. Obviously, this recovery of discovery does not guarantee I’ll remember it. I’ve floundered before and apparently, I’m likely to flounder again. It’s a good thing Grace has such aplomb.