When I began this blog, I intended to post twice a week. Clearly, I have fallen short of my goal. However, I want to write genuinely and not simply out of obligation (although having the obligation tends to kick-start creativity with much more frequency).
Amid the heaving throes of life, quietness seemingly flutters along the peripheral fringes. Teasingly, it darts in line of sight just long enough to noticeably disappear. The tumult of surviving daily life affords little opportunity for the pursuit of serenity. Of quietness. Of clear-headedness. All too often, it appears that the frantic pace of life wrenches away enough energy to leave us too exhausted to even consider doing anything aside from degenerating before a television screen. Keeping up with jobs, with bills, with an overload of friendships (both real and cyber), with romances, and with our respective faiths are alone enough to overwhelm anyone. Not to mention the added burden of worry and stress that can accompany any of these. And all of these things, for the most part, are non-negotiable. It often appears that the only fashion in which they can be adjusted is by increase.
Where is the time for silence? When will the clatter of the world and the cares of the world hush so that the soul can be quieted? Where are the quiet streams and gentle breezes where text messages and financial woes and social expectation can be forgotten. Where the soul may find peace, if only for a little while. Personally, even when I find these rare moments, they tend to become overshadowed by thoughts of having to return to work, or of an ever-declining bank account, or of guilt for not using my time more efficiently. And these feelings effectively torpedo that brief little slice of life I might have enjoyed. The stress and the noise and constant visual stimulation every moment of the day leaves no time for our minds to unwind. There seems to be so little space to breathe.
I need an open field on a warm April evening, when the grass has just begun to grow and the budding trees sway in the soft breeze. An evening where the Dogwood blooms are drifting lazily, like springtime snowflakes dancing in the gold dusk-light. And I can hear the sound of a spring brook cascading over water-worn stones. Where I can be unencumbered, immersed in the silence and serenity of a world untainted by artificial noises and smells. Just quietness. Deep peaceful quietness as I lay my back upon the greening earth and stare at the heavens. At the emerging pin-pricks of light I remember so fondly from my childhood, when life was a much quieter place.
