15th May 2019

Now, today, I figure out and find out a way, at least to do some journaling, some reflection. There is a sanctifying solitude that I usually, needlessly flee, in order to get back to my desk and toil away at organising, managing, preparing and such. But the futile attempt to rush towards the all is completely unnecessary, and a waste of wonderful time and space that can be given over to the Word, or the creative will. I see others take the moment for whatever they may need. Perhaps more responsible and fruitful tasks, of sorts, from a secular or utilitarian perspective. Perhaps it’s online shopping, or God knows what. But I see know, and I know, that it could be time well spent, for a contemplative, for a writer, for a father. There is also the particular grace, silence and emptiness of a room that is known for it’s noise, it’s busyness and it’s enterprise. The quiet presses upon me, warmly, wonderfully, and the tension of the hours past fades, releases.

I also know that to marry one process, one sequence, to another, is perhaps the most powerful way to make the practice stick. The caffetiera slowly warms and boils as I pray. I collect the coffee on my way to the garage. I drink the coffee as I train. I read the rule of St Albert as I drink the coffee, between sets. They cross and bind over with one another, strengthening the process, the discipline and resolve, til each part becomes almost effortless and inevitable, almost incomprehensibly so, in light of the lost mornings and days and months past.

So now, a new space and silence, and I thank God for letting me see it, find it, and relish it. Also a timely reminder to stop, listen, pray endlessly, ceaselessly, to know how and where the Spirit moves and breathes, leading us to fresh waters, to drink from the stream by the wayside, and therefore lift up our heads.