Somehow I thought nighttime would be a great time to sit quietly, alone in the darkness, listening. Near the close of day, peaceful, still, but not so. It has been a long day, a physical one, working and cleaning. My belly is full. My mind ready to receive. But, it wasn't that way. As I attempted to settle myself comfortably in my rocker beside the window, my body tensed up, and I found it impossible not to squirm. My legs became restless. It was not until I reclined on the floor and became still that I was able to settle down and begin to listen.
The mournful moaning of Thor, my neighbor's Alaskan Malamute, who is missing the company of Kodak, his female counterpart filled the night air. Kodak recently had a litter of puppies, so she has been staying inside the house with the pups as they struggle to survive. I listen for a response, but I am unable to discern a reply to Thor's pleading. Even now, I continue to hear him cry into the night.
Insects tuning up for the all-night vigil of discourse in the forest night, second only to the monotony of insects buzzing inside my skull. I thought at one moment there was a short cadence as the sounds slowly collided into a swelling crescendo. I expected to hear the clasp of cymbals at any time. I may go completely insane of I keep up this practice.
Traffic was slower, as one would hope. Regardless of the hour, someone is always going somewhere at some time going who knows where.
I began to wonder if I needed to sit tall and erect in the lotus position to hear the voice I long to hear. Even so, I know He's here, and I'm not alone. I never am. Perhaps the lesson learned tonight is the incredible gift of calm at the close of an otherwise hectic day. The breeze, coolness after a warm, sunny day, is refreshing. The hope of gentle rainfall in the air. Gratitude for a day well-lived. Simple pleasures in the midst of conflicting and troubling news reports.
I am reminded of all the chaos in our nation, even close to home. Wildfires are still burning in California, devastation in the aftermath of Hurricane Dorian on the east coast and Bahamas. The missing five year old child playing outside her home, now missing, just fifteen miles up the road. The world is anything but calm, and my heart cries out. I saw a woman with her hair pulled back, thin, standing in the median with a sign that read "Help me." There's a lot of that in Espanola, and I wonder....
This morning in my daily quiet time I read these words: "Do all the good you can, in all the ways you can, to all the people you can, as long as you can."
No flies this evening, only a solitary spider has woven its web in the corner of my kitchen wall adjacent to the stove. I decided to let it stay another night. Everything has its season.
Shutting down for the night now. Perhaps as I slip into a dreamless sleep, I can listen and hear if my mind remains quiet and my ears are attuned, my heart expectant.
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