lenten journal: play list

    1
    1072

    Ambition leads to the demand for the shortest path between points to gain the most in the least amount of time; wonder calls the heart to explore the unexpected, nonlinear paths that often create a new unity that could not be expected when one first began.
    (from Sabbath: The Ancient Practices by Dan Allender, by way of Beth)

    play list 

    there is much
    to be done and
    I am tempted
    toward efficiency
    the rush for
    the reward of
    accomplishment
    it won’t last

    there is much
    to be done and
    I am called to
    wonder wide-eyed
    and open-hearted
    the slow turn
    toward eternity
    the slow turn

    like the eighth
    grader dancing to
    the music in her
    juke box head
    homework can wait
    I want her play list
    her abandon
    there is so much

    Peace,
    Milton

    1 COMMENT

    1. you know, milton. . . every now & then — & it feels like more “nows” than “thens” — yer blog comes at me out of nowhere. . . just when things seem down, like there’s a plan out there that is AGAINST ME BEING HAPPY; not like “it can’t get any worse” cuz that’s always a pile of it, but like “wow, i’m really all alone here, even in this cyber-jungle there’s just me, typing into the wind, it’s so overwhelmingly sad i don’t know if i feel like taking it on anymore”. . . somehow, in the middle of that, i get words from you that just cut right through all intimations of self-pitying solipsism. . . words from you, sometimes other people’s words that you introduce. sometimes poetry, sometimes prose, sometimes just a simple re-telling of a story that wasn’t complicated to begin with. . . but always, always, always, without fail, words that somehow remind me of SOMETHING. . . a half-whispered secret amongst the best of friends, a reminder of the eternal We, a hint towards the recurrent resplendent beauty that is there for the taking. . .

      you always bring that beauty to the table.

      i want her play list, too, & i yearn for her abandon — & your poem brought it right home to me. . . fleeting, sure, but there nonetheless.

      thanks again.

      mitch

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