There's something beautiful about silence. Just hearing the gentle sounds of cicadas in the distance. The gentle hum of my ceiling fan.
Normally these little sounds go unnoticed.
But when I let myself take a moment, not to distract myself, or to intoxicate myself, to truly just exist, suddenly everything begins to feel like it has purpose.
The ceiling fan is keeping me cool.
There's an entire natural ecosystem just outside my window, if I listen closely enough I can even here the frogs.
When I free myself from my mind, from my anxiety, something beautiful occurs.
Suddenly, existence itself has beauty, not because I am desperate for it to, but simply because existence is enough.
Reflecting on a “birth long past” as I mark 50 years since high school graduation…thankful for all hope “wrung out” of life…how many graces in this life remain?
Praying: “Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, that we may rejoice all our days.” Ps 90:14.
“Do you think we could go back / into the dark of what we knew / before we learned anything at all?” really stayed with me.
There’s such a quiet ache running through this piece — the awareness that knowledge changes the texture of living permanently. Even the simple seasonal movement from cool mornings toward summer heat begins to feel like a meditation on innocence giving way to experience.
I especially loved:
“be here now, take pleasure here”
because the poem seems to understand how fragile that instruction really is once time, memory, and loss begin accumulating.
There's something beautiful about silence. Just hearing the gentle sounds of cicadas in the distance. The gentle hum of my ceiling fan.
Normally these little sounds go unnoticed.
But when I let myself take a moment, not to distract myself, or to intoxicate myself, to truly just exist, suddenly everything begins to feel like it has purpose.
The ceiling fan is keeping me cool.
There's an entire natural ecosystem just outside my window, if I listen closely enough I can even here the frogs.
When I free myself from my mind, from my anxiety, something beautiful occurs.
Suddenly, existence itself has beauty, not because I am desperate for it to, but simply because existence is enough.
Suddenly, I am enough.
Reflecting on a “birth long past” as I mark 50 years since high school graduation…thankful for all hope “wrung out” of life…how many graces in this life remain?
Praying: “Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, that we may rejoice all our days.” Ps 90:14.
“Do you think we could go back / into the dark of what we knew / before we learned anything at all?” really stayed with me.
There’s such a quiet ache running through this piece — the awareness that knowledge changes the texture of living permanently. Even the simple seasonal movement from cool mornings toward summer heat begins to feel like a meditation on innocence giving way to experience.
I especially loved:
“be here now, take pleasure here”
because the poem seems to understand how fragile that instruction really is once time, memory, and loss begin accumulating.
Beautifully reflective work.
Thank you.