The cosmos have conspired to turn me all apostle on you.
An apostle for what? For who? I wish I knew. Seventy-one post ideas sit on my Trello board now. Random.org tells me which one to write. Odd for a guy who rarely knows where his keys are at a given moment to be so Rain Man about the writing process.
It’s led me to these topics lately:
Crunch time in parenting
Holy hell, y’all. I feel like a cheese-eating, poor man’s Aristotle lately.
On Feb. 2, Deborah Weber of Temenos of the Blessing Light wrote about Groundhog Day – or more eloquently, cross-quarter day – in a post titled Winter Marches On. It’s on the midpoint of Equinox and Solstice, a season behind us and that day you can probably do amazing things like balance an egg on its tip at exactly 11:11.
A.M. and P.M. (Don’t quote me on this.)
Since, the concept of a seasonal wheel in constant motion stayed in constant motion in my mind. Not just the seasonal wheel that brings canker worms then kudzu then brilliant leaves then bare trees to disc golf courses, changing their composition and character.
Those shifts in light and air and climate are easy to see if you’ll just look up.
A million more happen undetected. Not just the life cycle of the downy woodpecker, guys.
We’re talking those cosmic shifts in our lives that nudge us this way or that way, a constant motion we can be present for or even influence, but ultimately are there for the ride only. I have visions of hope on this ride.
I see the shapes on the horizon, figures behind frosted glass.
I know what I hope them to be. Faith becomes stock for the journey, your staples and compass. It’s religious faith, personal faith, faith in the red string that binds us to our destinies. It’s navigating the darkness and light.
It’s that harmony that exists in every moment, even those in silence, in doubt, or just those when you’re searching a forest thicket for a bright yellow golf disc.
What should I do?
I will turn my face to the sun by getting out in the sun – even if the air is heavy.
I’ll play different disc golf courses with different discs.
I’ll walk fast but notice more.
I’ll curse the bad throw and then delve into the challenge it creates.
I’ll leave work on time, so that I can drive home in the sunlight.
I’ll leave for work early, so I can drive just after sunrise, and get in a round before work.
I won’t condemn the heat or the noise or the silence, because it won’t be long before I’ll wish for cool or quiet or laughter. And when they come, I’ll stay in that moment, too.
The thought of it all as I sit here between dinner and midnight snack, in quiet that’ll end when the kids come inside. Kind of makes me want to throw plastic with an Ephesian, quite honestly.
Just a dad ... 
I like this. It’s deep with underlying humour. My favourite. Have a great day full of all that promise.
Thank you. If I could be deep with underlying humor most days of the week, I’d consider that a win.
I hope your day has just as much promise packed into it, too.
Very reflective here mate, it comes with age apparently.
I hope so – because age has definitely taken my ability to jump very high or get up in the morning without 11 creaks or so.
yeah, it might as well endow with something useful after taking away our youth.
Deep thoughts and so very zen of you here today. I will add that for myself, I am just trying to enjoy as much as I can, especially now that the summer is almost here.
Namaste, J-Huld. I like your approach, with summer nearing.
That Camus bloke was right on the money!
He probably ate a nutritious breakfast to dispense that kind of knowledge, Yvonne.
Camus? Ya think? I’m skeptical … 😉
I wondered when you’d chime in, Jenn.
I knew this post was bait. 😉
Thoughts?
I like it, and it relates well to my current internship as a hospital chaplain, but I’m afraid I’ve never been all that zen. 😉 Also, every day I get home feeling pretty fulfilled, but also kind of exhausted from “bearing others’ burdens”–a rewarding but a little bit draining enterprise. Also also, one of our dogs has been violently ill and hasn’t eaten since Saturday night. He’s not that old, but no one (including vets) can figure out what’s wrong, and we’re already grieving. Means … thoughts are a little hard to come by at the moment. I did enjoy this post, though!
I believe you’re every bit Zen, Jenn. I think your soul bears a lot of the fulfillment and burden because it has the capacity to do so.
I’m sorry to hear about your dog and will put him in my thoughts and prayers … glad you stopped by.
Thanks, Eli. That means a lot. We’re kind of in a waiting place as far as the dog goes. We shall see…
beautiful thoughts, zen master. and the time between dinner and fourth meal is one of deep contemplation.
any period in which i’ve turned my face from my meal and my aspirations to the next plate of food is ripe for meditation, beth. pass the tacos.
It’s hard for me to stay in the moment sometimes when there is a lot tugging at me. Takes a lot of practice, and not beating myself up about getting distracted. When I get it right, the harmony is there. An ahhh moment.
Solid thoughts Eli, and love the quote. (You always have the best quotes.)
It’s like life won’t let us stay in the moment sometimes, Cathy. In those times, I want to be a uni-tasker, and just get that instant right there, none others.
It’s not always that we’re in harmony, but that’s better. You don’t appreciate the cool breeze or full-fat ice cream if you have it all the time.
Thanks on your thoughts. I always want to find someone else’s words to help me sum up what I tried to say!
With age comes wisdom. You must be 800 hundred years old. I’ll just call you Yoda from now on. May your disk always fly straight!
With age also comes an increasing disability to ever dunk a basketball on a goal higher than 6 feet. I’ll take it, though. My wisdom age isn’t a day past 711, though.
Yoda, you may call me.
May all your classes be studious and the running path before you remain dog-poop and acorn-free.
With the Force, you can dunk without ever leaving the ground. I’ll take dog poop and acorns over coyotes.
Yoda could kick a coyote’s ass.
Whoa, Eli! A weekend off and you come back grown up!??? LOL. Love the places your mind takes us……what a great journey!
Word, huh Torrie? I did shave Friday, but I’d not go so far as to say I’m grown up. I just use grown-up words and eating utensils. Sometimes. Glad you enjoyed the trip!
Did you try balancing an egg on its tip at 11:11? But in all seriousness, great post. Lots to think about. Thanks!
Every time I try to remember to pause at 11:11 (or 1:11 or 3:11 or any :11) I forget until 11:12 (or 1:12 or 3:12 or any :12).
Glad to get the brain (and soul?) stirring on a Monday morning. I’m sure it aids digestion and circulation.
My daughter is obsessed with making a wish at 3:33, 4:44, 5:55, etc. It’s getting old…
At 2:22, you should wish for her clock to break.
Such deep thoughts, oh wise one. 11:11 is for making wishes you know…..
I’m 49% wise one and 49% wise ass – flip a coin. 11:11 is the best time of the day, twice a day.
Great post and quote. I love that somebody called you Yoda, because I was thinking that too! 🙂
Thanks Tania. Was it the bad posture or the snake stew on the stove that gave it away?
Very deep. I’m jealous that you have that many post ideas in the queue. I don’t even know what I’m writing next week!
Thanks Lisa. Know where I get most of my post ideas? Comments I leave on other posts. I always seem to have more to say.
Walk fast but notice more. Yes – I want to do that too. Head up, taking it in.
I appreciate 11:11, but I’m more of a 12:34 kinda gal. I’m only awake for one of those a day, though. Usually.
It’s possible, right, to walk fast but notice more? I hope so.
12:34 is when great things happen, too. When possible, schedule something that will change your life right then.
ah, zen. being present, practicing mindfulness those are the things in my queue. which sometimes leaves my blog queue empty, but it’s okay: it will all come back around again.
It’s all out of the same bucket, isn’t it?