A Pattern of Grace

There's something about Mondays that puts me in a pensive mood. Maybe it's getting up so early, or perhaps it's the quiet time on the train with the dawning world rolling by. Whatever the reason, it's a time when I am somehow especially open to the little bits of beauty the world offers up. I began the day with my first foray into Barry Lopez's amazing book Resistance as the train flowed past the wetlands of Milford. Within two pages, I was utterly absorbed. The language is lyrical and it alone is reason enough to drink deeply from this book. But what is said is arguably even more incredible than how (if the two can actually be thought of separately). I was so grateful I got to begin my day with words like this: "We are not twelve or twenty, but numerous as the motes of dust lining the early morning shafts of city light. We are stark and unquenchable in the same moment that we are ordinary. We incorporate damage and compassion, exaltation and weariness-to-the-bone." (p. 18) and "We cannot, finally, be imprisoned or killed, because we remember and speak." (p.18) I felt thirsty, like I had been craving these words without even knowing.

Then I got to work and read this piece from today's New York Times and felt once again I had been reminded that life is so much more than Metro North and e-mail. Yet at the same time, those things are just as much life as the beautiful late-afternoon light from the top of a New Hampshire cliff. It's all in how I let it in, how I let myself into it. So, no manic Monday for me today. Just a deep feeling of gratitude, serenity, energy, thirst. Refreshing!