There is no burden but should lightly lie, No duty but joy at heart must be. - George MacDonald Sometimes it's just one line that catches you right where you need it, tugging at your heart. George MacDonald does that to me frequently, and I love this line. No duty but joy at heart must be. That is what we are tasked with (our duty, per say): a joyful heart, and yet we let all these burdens rise up onto us, as if we had to hold them for some reason. But, alas, we don't have to hang on to them. Our Lord offers to us that He will take them. Cast ye burdens unto Him. Why do we cling so tightly and allow ourselves to toil all the day (and night) long? I pray the Lord takes all my thoughts that cause me to stray from my duty of joy at heart. I need guidance in this, for it is too easy to slip into collecting burdens and letting them pile up in a stack that quickly gets weighty, therefore it becomes tougher to let them go. It takes courage to let them go, but oh! The joy of the release when we lift them to God! I sip coffee this morning and praise God as the sun rises and casts a bright glow into my home. May the Lord cast a bright glow into my heart, and shine there always. The Lord's light never grows dim.
I wonder anybody does anything at Oxford but dream and remember, the place is so beautiful. One almost expects the people to sing instead of speaking. It is all like an opera. - William Butler Yeats
Take a walk with me across a stone-paneled city. Sand-coloured buildings adorned with windows ornate and tall. Windows lined with flower boxes blossoming in colour. Flower boxes surrounding a grassy space. Take a breathe and think about the history you are part of, even if only for a short time. We are only here on earth for a short time, but this city has lasted for centuries and will continue to flourish for many more. We get to experiences place like this. Where time has passed and history has occurred under your feet. I cannot help but feel that here, in Oxford.
It is good to be reminded of our smallness. A smallness coupled with the fact that we all have a part to play in this great story of God's creation. It is a paradox of the minuscule and the importance that fascinates my imagination. I feel that the most when I am travelling. I think part of why I love to travel to old places is because I feel as if I am stepping into a story that has been taking place for centuries, and I get swept away into the middle of the book somewhere. The point is, I get to be within those pages, and it is part of that discovery and learning that thrills me. To be part of it is a privilege. The more unique a place is (and true to itself) the more I love it. I tend to stay away from the touristy sections if I can, so I am able to find the tucked away local spots that give me a feeling of the place. I want to learn the names of some of the locals I will see everyday, at my favourite coffee shop or at the place I am staying. As we walk around, look around. One thing I potentially dislike about travel is if I am shuffled from one thing to another with no sense of appreciation of a place except to cross it off the list as completed. This is one reason why I do not gravitate to take part in travel tour groups. I want to spend time in a place to gather its feeling, to feel its pulse, not just go nonstop from place to place. Each place has a vibe, but you cannot absorb that if you don't observe, which requires slowing down. So let's slow down for a cup of tea and listen to the locals chatter about their lives. Everyone has their different modes of travel, and I love to hear about such travels and why they did what they did, and what they learned. So, how do you prefer to travel? Why do you like to travel? What draws you to a place?
Are we loftily lifted up on the clouds? Or is the sun always this bright? A quiet morning, meditation in the now. We are the clouds, being pierced by the great Light. Rising up above all the earthly distinctions, A shift in perspective results in much improved sight. No breeze shuffles in to move us, so we think right here. In a moment such as this, we can truly delight. A heart less full of self, emptied out, flowing Outwardly as a giving source like a river, with all our might.
Charles Wallace's problem is to learn to adapt while remaining wholly himself. - A Wind in the Door, by Madeleine L'Engle Charles Wallace's problem is my problem as well (and quite possibly all our problems). The issue in this book (A Wind in the Door, the second book after A Wrinkle in Time) is that young Charles Wallace (6 years old) gets picked on by many children, and he comes home from school with a black eye sometimes. He would be in his first grade class and when asked something about himself one day, he would begin to talk about microbes and mitochondria, and how tiny the particles are, and what microscopes can see, and what mitochondria need to thrive. He was a "special" child, with genius scientist parents. His bedtime reading was scientific books. He was doomed to always being misunderstood and picked on. The teacher and principal tried to coax him to fit in and not display his true self. It is not an easy task when the world wants you to be something else that fits easily in a group. It keeps things pretty simple when everyone is the same. Somewhere along the way, sometime in elementary school, I realized that I was not made to be like other people, or to follow them just because. I was always glad to be different and go my own way. I knew that having red hair (strawberry brown, so I'm told) automatically made me stick out a bit. Then, add the fact that I loved to read and learn, while most young girls were more interested in cute boys and lip gloss, and I stuck out even more. Of course I was interested in cute boys and lip gloss, but have always been more interested in reading. I don't remember the reason why a girl in my 5th grade class decided to break all my coloured pencils in half and spread them out on my desk one day, but I remember approaching my desk with my newest library book in my hand completely clueless as to why someone would do that. I was just being myself, and didn't understand why someone would dislike that so much. Sometimes it is easier to give in to the world, but we are meant to be our truest selves. It is amazing how we can forget who we are too easily. The book is filled with themes of embracing who you are and naming your true self. When the characters would name who they truly are, the danger would flee. Satan slips in those subtle words or memories from the past to bring back certain feelings, and before we know it, we are not ourselves. Oh how the subtle workings of Satan are much more dangerous than a blatant attack because we do not easily realize it slipping into our subconscious We need to recognize it to snuff it out. "I don't know. We don't have to know everything at once. We just do one thing at a time, as it is given us to do." (pg 113) When are we our truest selves? In the book, Meg had to learn to love Mr. Jenkins with an agape (giving and selfless) love, even though she didn't actually like him. When we can love others, and continue to give, we are our truest selves. We become more and more ourselves. How can we know our truest selves? If we learn to know, really know deep down into the fiber of every cell, that God first loves us (before we existed, before we do anything, before we deserve it) we will become our truest selves by way of letting God's love live through us. Meg learns how many of us can be led astray to believe in nothing but themselves: a selfish darkness which ends in destruction. It takes a long time to truly know this, and let it sink in. Oh! How we can learn so much about ourselves as we read good stories and books. The books we read, read us. "But you said your last assignment was to memorize the names of all of them." "I did. All the stars in all the galaxies. And that's a great many." "But how many?" "What different does it make? I know their names. I don't know how many there are. It's their names that matter." (pg 206)
She had another whole hour in which she could curl up under the covers, and luxuriate in warmth and comfort, and doze - Then she remembered. She tried to reassure herself that she was remembering a dream, although it was not the way that a dream is remembered. It must have been a dream, obviously it must have been a dream - - Madeleine L'Engle From the moment of waking, I am reflecting. A thankful heart sits quietly and wakes brightly. A troubled heart wakes in the midst of thoughts that never quieted. On a warm (dare I say it - hot) day of February, I wake up after sleeping-in one morning. To wake slowly and not slip out of bed instantly is a luxury I don't indulge in very often. I stretch and let my mind wake up as a thoughtfulness fills me. As light begins to fill my room my thoughts wake up with the rising sun. Weekends for me lately have been a restorative and reflective time. If you ask me how I've spent my weekend as of late, it would seem rather dull to most people, filled with the very basics like chores and errands, but what fills me each weekend is the time I am able to take to sit at a coffee shop writing, being reflective, reading at home, and being creative in some way. Sometimes the creativity looks like writing a blog post, or wrapping gifts for an upcoming birthday, or writing a note to someone, or organizing/decorating something in my home. In moments of time I have that are free, I really enjoy being home. For some reason lately, I haven't been inclined to fight traffic to go out and about much, but to be at home enjoying this tiny space I have is where I have been drawn. There are many activities on the weekends, of course, so it is not all quiet at home. Much of what I can learn and reflect on is obtained by way of a gathering, event, or specific conversion with someone. But then I need to return home with some time for reflection. We all are made so differently, it is a wonder to behold and learn how others recharge and relax. While I need a stack of books and my journal (plus a cup of coffee or tea if available), others may need a good movie, or a game, or a nap. It is fun to learn about those things in each person, so do share what it is that you need to recharge if you feel so inclined.
What music genre helps you focus? I've read that the younger millennial generation more than the older needs music to focus (the millennial birth years range from 1982-2004), and that's why so many students you see in coffee shops have ear buds in while they work on their laptops. I am a millennial, but not of the younger set, and perhaps as a result, I work well in total silence, but I also work well with some good music that's not distracting. I prefer either classical (such as Bach or Chopin, or just simple piano) or some electronic ambient music. I don't want any vocals if I am working or trying to write. If there are vocals, then I need to be in a coffee shop where other voices will muffle the vocals and it all melds into the atmosphere. In a world where distractions are all over the place, it is interesting to learn how everyone works, and what environment they need. Is it a generational thing? Is it a preference based on personality? If something specific works well for you, why is that? It is just interesting to think about. And as I think about it, I am listing to the above electronic song. It only seemed appropriate.
I am sitting at Concord Coffee, letting the atmosphere of a coffee shop fill my head and space. I am sitting up at the counter/bar, drinking a delicious peppermint latte. I don't usually sit up at the bar, but all the other tables were taken, and I do find that a new perspective is good to take sometimes. The coffee shop looks a bit different from up here. It reminds me to be open to seeing the same thing but with fresh eyes. Like discovering a place for the first time. To look upon a place of familiarity with a new sense of appreciation. The concrete counter top is smooth and spacious. I could spread out with a few more books, really. I can hear the conversions behind me, but cannot see the people unless I turn, so my imagination is at work picturing them in my head. The music playing is upbeat and unfamiliar. Other than the baristas, the people are all strangers to me. This is an ideal situation for a thinking place. Here is where I find it easy to think think think. While being in the midst of people normally has the potential to be distracting, when I don't know the people and they are going on about their business with muffled conversations, writing notes, and tapping keys on their laptops, I am in community with them as other thinkers, writers, creators, students, business people doing life in their way. I find beauty in that. I welcome the ambient atmosphere because it is not a distraction. It is a place where I am not distracted by my own things. I love being at home (and that's my other good thinking place) but it can be more distracting because I will see that I need to dust, so I'll get up to dust. Then, I'll remember I needed to change my water filter, so I will get up to do that. Then I will see the stack of things I left on the table, that I mean to go through and put away, so I will get up to do that. You see where this is going, and sometimes it gets the best of me as I get little things done here and there, my thoughts are going here and there, too. It's not always like that, but sometimes it is. A coffee shop is where the comings and goings of daily life inspires me. I am a lifelong learner so I will read my book and underline with gusto as if I had a paper to write. That paper I write might just be a reflection in my journal. I will glance up and take a sip of coffee and wonder what the person next to me is writing about as they type away on their laptop. I love the environment of many brains thinking, postulating, and working in the same space about a wide range of topics (I can only imagine what each person is studying or discussing). Where is your good thinking place?
Where ever-present joy knows naught of time. - Paradiso, Dante Paradiso is a long poetical allegory of paradise written by Dante, completed in 1320. I try to grasp ounces of Dante's words in his grand poem. The version I read is translated by Dorothy L. Sayers. In this, the last of the books (he has already been through hell and purgatory), we travel along with Dante as he and his beloved Beatrice travel from sphere to sphere through the different planets, moon, and sun (ie. the heavenly realm). As they move closer and closer to God, to paradise. As they move through the spheres, are they moving away from the centre? In Dante's limited mind, perhaps outward, and yet all that is written and all of what God does us to draw us into Him, actually closer to the centre. It is the paradox of time and space. Could moving through the different spheres cause us to pass through realms while at the same time drawing nearer to the centre? Perhaps it is the love that moves the spheres that moves us as well, in ways and on planes we would not be able to imagine ourselves. The shape of the path we think we take takes us somewhere else. How do we describe the love that moves the spheres? Is that why poems and imagery sometimes can reach us deeply as they help us cling onto a little snippet of the heavenly realm? Follow the spheres and the mystery of love as it melds into each one. We are limited in our place and time to fully understand, but we can look at Jesus, who was both human and divine. In Jesus we can see the elements of humanity we can follow and connect with. By these human experiences, we can better understand His divine nature. These mysteries of God continue to rise as Dante and Beatrice are encircled by lights of souls who pass ahead of them - those with great wisdom and the saints. 24 lights encircle them. Their measure done of dance and melody, The sacred fires again gave heed to us, Turning from task to task with right good glee. -Paradiso, Dante It takes a harmonious dance amongst the participants of love to make the spheres go round. Captured in the rings is love and light, and each sphere is drawn to the centre by those things. Each task at hand is part of the circle and a piece of the divine. Each task is to be turned with a right good glee, which makes me smile. We don't always smile at tasks or take them on with glee. But each thing we do is part of the heavenly realm, building up from the time of Christ. This mixture of the heavenly with the earthly in my imagination helps me see the glimpses of the heavenly realm in the here and now. Even on my table of spheres, I mean grapefruit and bowl.
