An Ash Wednesday
The dust that makes you
was given life, your life,
a solid thing of grace.
No longer a wispy concept,
forever a truth
to cling to, even in doubt.
We lead messy lives, day to day
leaving our traces
as one broken and scarred.
But one day that messiness
becomes a beautiful reminder -
the dust and ash of a cross.
If it sinks into our souls
we know how deep His love is
in the small scale we understand.
It is a deeper mystery, such love.
We can merely dabble at corners
and let in the sweeping ocean of love.
In my dreams, I am always starting at a coffee shop with my pen scribbling to fill blank pages. That's the ideal way to start a day, though for me it is only a Saturday that I am normally able to do that, and sometimes Sunday later in the morning. When I travel, that is basically what every day looks like, though. After breakfast and getting ready, it's straight to a coffee shop for coffee and journal time. It is many times my favourite part of the day - writing, reflecting, drinking coffee, planning, resting. All the while fueling up for the day ahead.
It is truly a gift to be able to visit and be immersed in a culture other than my own, and to me that extends to be as much a local as I can, seeking out the beauty of the details, the nuances or a neighborhood. It requires slowing down, and paying careful attention to each thing. I like to look for the details, noticing, observing, and writing about them from a prospective of gratitude and appreciation.
There is always much to look for with that attitude. I seek to feel the presence of a place all while appreciating the true nature of it. That place has so much to tell - why it is what it is, where it came from, why it has been shaped by certain histories. I come with the perspective of finding out its story. Wisdom of the past is there to be discovered along the way.
When I travel in Europe, I walk everywhere, and I take trains for further distances. In those experiences, there is a certain sense of community with others. Even if you are not talking with them, you are on the same journey. You are going from one place to another, and you share in that. You sit close to them. You walk beside them. You overhear conversations. It places you out there with others, in a shared story. I feel alive and inspired by that - in the simple and mundane.
Back at home, I try to incorporate that as much as possible but our cities and transportation options are set-up differently, so it is not really possible.
One way I can incorporate this feeling of community is in coffee shops. I can sit here at a big table, sharing it with a man who is working on his laptop, and each of us is quietly focused on our task, while mutually respecting each other in space and time. This is the same here and everywhere I have been in Europe. That is why I love to spend time at a coffee shop because it is one place that universally offers that sense of connection and community with strangers whilst enjoying some relaxing time drinking coffee whilst working on something (reading, writing, working, studying). I enjoy that wherever I am, it has become essential to my weeks.
Well, my coffee cup is now empty, and it is getting busier in here. I have some things to do, and like with all good things, we must pause them to do the duties of the weekend. Chores. But here I took some time to slow down and enjoy a favourite thing whether I am travelling or at home. What a gift.
This isn't a musing on the mystery novel I have been enjoying lately with a chai latte, that hot drink with a perfect blend of spice and milky black tea (Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries by Dorothy L. Sayers in case you were wondering - I am working my way through all of them; though 'working' isn't the right word. It's such a pleasure to read these books). My photo is what you might call a red herring - a clue that is intended to be a distraction. Although, I confess, the two are related. Nothing in life can be truly separate from other things - everything mingles up there in the far reaches of our minds.
I tend to make up stories (sometimes just a scene) in my head. The spark for said stories might form from an image of something I see, a tune or song I hear, or a place I might go. It could even be sparked by an object, or a book I am reading. Sometimes it is halfway formed in a dream, and I wake up eager to complete the story, or finish the scene (because I always wake up right when the scene is getting to the climax - - wait...then what happens?).
When I am making up a story, I add a mystery to it, which then has to be figured out. Clues may need to be gathered. Pieces may need to fall into place over some adventure. There is always something sort of mysterious happening. I do this without even realizing it. I always have. There is no story, to me, without a mysterious element. It doesn't need to be a murder to solve or a spooky haunted estate to explore. It could be something so everyday (i.e. realistic) like someone coming back from the past, someone you hadn't seen in 15 years revealing themselves to you with a specific message, and you are left with the task of figuring out this person's story. What is really going on?
Or, it could be totally fantasy out-of-this-world kind of imaginative story where you are on another planet or in another world where almost anything can happen. This of course opens the gates to all sorts of mysterious things, from the nature of the place, the danger of the place, and the people.
Most of the time these stories and scenes simply entertain my imagination for the day, and then disappear. Maybe it runs on for a few days. So it is very rare that I am ever bored, because my imagination goes with me wherever I go. I can be waiting at a traffic light going through a scene of discovery in my head, and I frequently do.
It is no wonder I add mystery to my own life situations. I wonder and make up possible scenarios, just as I do with my imaginative creations. I like to discover mysteries in things, and then figure it out to solve it, or at least part of it. It is fun to break through mysteries to see into a truth. People are mysterious to me, and studying certain behaviors or relationships can be wrapped in shrouds to discover and think about. It is never a simple matter. There is always something deeper. Nature is a mystery, so I am drawn to the way the clouds rise through the different layers of sky, moving faster and faster the higher you go, the way trees and bend in the ferocious winds, how the red super giant star Betelgeuse is dimming in the sky because it is reaching the end of its life (and will one day collapse on itself resulting in a massive supernova), and the way glaciers are ever moving through fjords, continuing to carve the earth.
My observant nature in my personality assists me here, for in order to enjoy a good mysterious situation, one must be careful to notice things in observations. Pay attention. Stay alert. Ponder things (like why stars die and why this chai latte is so smooth and delicious). Embrace the mysterious. It is all snippets of God's own imagination.
The world will never lack for wonders.
Only for a lack of wonder.
- G.K. Chesterton
With the risk of becoming a most unpopular person, I say that I really love a good rainy, grey day or two (or even three). I know - what is wrong with me? Honestly, I have a soft spot for those low grey clouds that bring a full day of light rain that never seems to end. I get all warm and fuzzy inside, wishing for cafes to duck into for a warm lunch and coffee shops to spend time in with a smooth latte, to sink into a cosy environment whilst the weather is being weather.
I have always felt like this about weather, but was not able to articulate it when I was a child. But I knew that cosy feeling that came on suddenly as a cloudburst came upon the land, and in those moments I grew still and became present in order to enjoy the sounds, scents, sights, and atmosphere.
G.K. Chesterton brings another element into the mix with rain that goes beyond just enjoying it, he writes "Two men should share an umbrella; if they have not got an umbrella, they should at least share the rain, with all its rich potentialities of wit and philosophy."
I love weather. To me, it makes everything interesting, and full of wonder. I find myself in a story that is waiting to be unraveled. Suddenly, I am noticing that the bare tree limbs give off a creepy vibe, especially as they reach out toward the darkened sky. There might be ghosts afoot. They can easily hide in the shadows. I may need to investigate some clues along the sidewalk, covered up in the splash of a puddle. The glowing streetlamps reveal a path into the alley of a building not noticed before.
All kinds of stories start to awaken within me when the weather does its thing. Even if I decided to stay tucked away safely dry during a rainy day, everything in the atmosphere of my place of shelter changes in a good way - a way that leads into the imagination.
