Our lives hang suspended across the expanse of time that each has been allotted, held fast by the twin anchors of our birth at one end and our death at the other. In between there are certain rare moments, some might say “defining moments,” or moments of eternal significance, upon which our lives hang, like the mast-like tent poles of a circus tent, that lend a shape and a structure and become a part of who we are, and beneath and between which the circus acts of our lives alternately entertain and amaze, and where we are left to sweep up the mess when the spectators go home. Here is where I hope to share some of mine.
The silence speaks, given voice by the tick-tick-ticking tempo of an unaware, unassuming mantle clock. Attention now arrested, I contemplate the clock. That there is, in fact, a clock seems a certainty…(more at link)
When I first read this book it struck a deep resonance within my empty soul. Here, finally, was someone who eloquently captured what my heart knew full well – life under the sun is a pointless, meaningless, wearisome vanity, fraught with injustice and oppression. (more at link)
In the small predawn hours, sleep was once my lazy lover, ever coaxing me back into the soft embrace of her forgetfulness. Now she shuns me. (more at link)
Distraught, I hung up the unwelcome but expected phone call from the doctor’s office. They would no longer be scheduling the treatment that I rely upon for my sanity and my life. (more at link)
When I Met Awe (in work)
I don’t remember the rain. I suppose it fell in the night, spending itself against the shingles and siding of the renovated farmhouse my family called home. An army of enraged droplets…