Sunday, April 21, 2013

she takes it all for me

The tenderness of her love makes her soul so light, any occasion that kindles the fire makes the spirit soar.
-Teresa of Avila

If you've ever tried to punt a boat, you'll find that it's easier the less you think about it.
When I'm faced with a situation like so:
Hey, why don't you try to maneuver this literally 10 foot long heavy metal pole in a river while balancing on the back of a rather tipsy boat. Don't crash!
My natural reaction is to panic/overthink.
There's a magic moment, however, where you stop thinking, and you just respond.
Once your mind gets itself off of spin cycle, you find yourself a remarkably agile responder to the low-hanging trees and low-clearance bridges that are the obstacles in your course down the river.
In those moments, you find something mysteriously like peace.

punting/casually dodging trees.
If there is one thing that stresses me out, it's clocks. 
I don't wear a watch, which, on further reflection, is probably a deep-seated character flaw that should be remedied.
But the thought of carrying around a physical reminder of moments passing away seems grotesquely morbid.
Time should always be one of the those concepts easily put away when necessary.
Like, when I was going to Walsingham.
I found myself wandering around in circles outside the Norfolk village about Fakenham.
Two things about Fakenham:
1. I still don't know how to pronounce the name correctly [it's harder than you think].
2. It has many scenic paths that are very easy to get lost on.
2.b) None of them, sadly, lead to Walsingham.

unexpected bridges over unexpected rivers

As I wandered deeper into the countryside, feeling suspiciously more and more as though this was not the way to Walsingham, I found tears of frustration pricking my eyes.
This was not the way I wanted to go.
Five beautiful of daffodil patches later, I reminded myself to notice the countryside around me.
It's amazing how picky we are with gifts sometimes; and I almost let this one pass by me.
This may not have been the way I wanted to go; it may not have been the most expedient route to get to where I was going; but it was a detour I wouldn't have traded for anything.


I am a Joy-chaser.
I live for the moments that you stretch your hands to the sky, and a song you didn't expect bursts out of your lips, because some sort of noise had to burst out of your lungs.
I live for the moments you feel your heart will split in two; or your eyes will out-shine the sun from the Joy surging through them.

biking through Oxford

Near Oxford, there is a town called Headington. To get there, you can bike or drive or walk up a hill.
It's a rather large hill.
And to get back to Oxford, you bike or drive or walk down the hill.
If you drive down the hill, I suppose you concern yourself with putting on the brakes.
If you walk down the hill, I suppose you concern yourself with pushing up against gravity pushing down.
But if you bike down the hill, you don't concern yourself with either.
You rush down, the wind making your coat fly out, the world rushing past you.
You gulp in massive amounts of fresh air, and you feel the tips of your hair come alive.
It's moments like those, you become a creature of the sky, unshackled by mortal coil.
Those are the moments your soul gets a little bit lighter.

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