Yesterday I stayed home and committed to real, authentic, me-time. In other words, absolutely minimal use of email, iming, texting, Facebook/Facebook chat or phone. Minimal time on the internet. Focus on my mile long to-do list, myself, my apartment, my writing, etc. I actually worked a full day, just entirely on personal stuff that needed doing, some of it urgently.
This morning, the train stopped on the tracks outside Vienna station, but I was early today so it didn't bother me --without even trying much I was earlier than I've been in months. I was reflecting on that, and I had this sudden space of peace that didn't leave me until I got in to work and started reading all the panicked emails from students and receiving the panicked phone calls and letting that get under my skin.
In this space of peace, a poem/prayer came to me... I opened my moleskine and it sort of just plopped out of my pen without really going through my brain. Maybe that's obvious from the quality of the product, but I want to share it anyway:
"The Quiet Comes Unbidden" or "What Happens When You Try"
I cleared a space for me yesterday
and found a space for You,
overgrown by weeds, bushes and branches,
rusted tools beneath the grass,
the old artifacts of my spiritual self-maintenance.
I went into the space for You
hesitantly, wanting only to reclaim my peace,
to stop the ceaseless cycle of frantic worry,
only seeking rest, only seeking rest,
I cleared a space to sit, and sat, waiting.
Tears came, of course, memories of the stillness
I used to feel on entering here.
I always had to fight to get inside
but once there I always used to find
a cultivated space
and a path in the grass, well-worn from our walking there.
I have been waiting for You all my life.
I have been waiting for You from eternity.
I have been waiting for You to
clear the clutter of my frantic soul,
to hush the ceaseless babble in my brain
and to bring me --finally-- to peace.
I have been waiting for You for my whole existence.
I have been waiting for You since time began.
I have been waiting...
but at some point now closed to memory
I locked and barricaded the gate.
I put up a barbed wire electric fence
and a 7 foot wall around my soul.
And I have no idea why.
I have been waiting for You to tear the barriers down
and You've been waiting for me to do the same...
this inexplicable mystery of You
waiting for me
behind the gates, among the thorns,
waiting for me to come and find You
before You would still my soul.
Having found You again,
I will lose myself in Your embrace, Jesus,
and never let You go.