I can tell already that "humble" was the wrong word to use in this blog title... My narcissism is rising as I type. All the compliments and encouragement from people feels pretty good. I found myself checking my own blog all week, scrolling down to see who had posted the new comments.
But that's neither here nor there. The real matter at hand is the details. The unfortunate truth is that I work too much. I clocked nearly 70 hours last week, and potentially that many again this week, so I find that each week becomes one long fight against fatigue.
One of the most tragic things about being extremely busy is that my eye for the details starts to glaze over. All of life is rush, rush, rush: wake up and eat breakfast fast so that you can move a load of stuff to the new apartment but then it's almost time for work so rush on over to the plant and oh no!! I forgot to pick up a loaf of bread for sandwiches!
The moon kept me sane the other night. I can't remember which night it was exactly; most nights blur together. I was waiting for a truck to arrive at the plant, probably around 1 or 2 am, and I decided it was a good time for a lunch break. So I took my ham and turkey sandwich (with pepper jack cheese! mmmm...) outside, and there was the moon. A day or two past full, it had risen a few hours before. I noticed it up there, and I grabbed my opportunity. I love opportunities like this, chances to focus and step out of my circumstances for a moment. I sat there for minutes - slowly eating my sandwich; slowly breathing in and out; slowly gazing up at the moon. As I sat there, for a little bit, the plant behind me faded away, the trucker who was several hours late faded away, and everything seemed to make sense for an instant.
Then real life comes back, and it's time to start rushing again. But after that moment of centering with the moon, I might have rushed less, even though the world was rushing around me. In the cosmic perspective of the moon and the earth whirling their heavenly dance across the solar system, my problems with a late truck driver and a dysfunctional boiler seem to shrink a little bit.
3 comments:
There is an expression in Zen, "Wash your face." That if you get a little piece of shit on your nose, everything will smell like shit. You'll go around all day saying, "This stinks. That stinks. It all stinks!" So, wash your face.
It's nice to have little reminders to wash our faces. Though you'd be amazed how many people never notice the moon. You should have seen it in Boston Tuesday night. :-)
Rachel B.
It's quite possible that people that are a little melancholy from time to time and a little manic at other times are some of the best writers.
I think you're a good writer. Just don't get too cocky. :) love ya... hope you miss CO sometimes still...
My goal has been to live fully in every moment, not just the beautiful ones with moons (does that sound Zen -ish enough?). So we're fully present in waiting for the late driver (for you), or helping one of my patients with their toileting (did I actually sign up for this?). For an old guy who's been trying to "live fully in the moment" for a long time, I don't think I'm any closer to the goal though.
But in being attentive, there's so much beauty in small things around us that are easy to miss, like the simple thank you of an elderly woman who has just walked for the 1st time in years, or how one of our music colleagues turns a phrase in a rehearsal. Makes it easier to see God's grace all around.
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