SHE: fretted -- you could see it in her face. Suppressed tension. Tasked with managing people who were now working harmoniously like a flock of swallows on a summer evening, she was lost without anything left to manage. Idleness became stress. If nothing could be found to do, she could at least pretend to be productive; checking her preparations for tomorrow, taking on work that was someone else’s responsibility, editing the copious notes by which she lived.
HE: consuming time through vicarious living in a world of other peoples troubles. Satiating the desire to ignore 'self' through immersion in news of tragedies, tapping ever-present streams through technology, smart phone, iPad; surfing through worlds of words and images as waves of information bring more garbage than value.
Consumed by work for much of the day, any space that remained was diligently occupied with anything but reflection. He could roster his day by the doses of regularly scheduled TV dramas and pseudo reality. A supplement of sport gossip filled any residual gaps. For then he could say his time was consumed, that he had no space for anything beyond his own horizons, and his fragile mental walls bolstered against seeing his simple existence.
It is possibly one of the greatest curses of this life, to be trapped in the instant. Ever striving to never leave a moments silence for fear we might hear the echoes of past and future events as they paint a momentous portrait of intimacy. And so we construct our lives so we never have to stand exposed to the infinite which shouts that we are nothing, yet we are nonetheless loved. We fight with all our might to never let this truth penetrate. We pay homage to that which we dare not honestly admit by constructing our own good works, acts of charity, formulations of ritual, all the time self-deluded about our poverty; we'll do anything rather than stand naked in time.
Perhaps one of the greatest treasures of heaven will be if we become unbound from time.
ME: I tried to be still. I really did. I tried again and again. I tried to still my inner self and stand without pretense in the face of the Omniscient, Omnipresent, and Omnipotent. And in what can only be described as an act of utter and complete foolishness, even then I still make half constructed thoughts and rationalizations to try explain some value in my life. I failed. I cold not Be Still, nor fully halt my own proud progression of thoughts.
Maybe one day I will succeed, maybe only in heaven. I seek not to empty my mind (that is suicide), but to clear my senses to understand I am valued, even though my works are valueless. Till that day in heaven I don't know if I will ever be strong enough to truly Be Still, but until that day I will try and try again. There was never a more valuable thing I did, or could ever do, than to try and Be Still, and know that He is God.
HE: consuming time through vicarious living in a world of other peoples troubles. Satiating the desire to ignore 'self' through immersion in news of tragedies, tapping ever-present streams through technology, smart phone, iPad; surfing through worlds of words and images as waves of information bring more garbage than value.
Consumed by work for much of the day, any space that remained was diligently occupied with anything but reflection. He could roster his day by the doses of regularly scheduled TV dramas and pseudo reality. A supplement of sport gossip filled any residual gaps. For then he could say his time was consumed, that he had no space for anything beyond his own horizons, and his fragile mental walls bolstered against seeing his simple existence.
It is possibly one of the greatest curses of this life, to be trapped in the instant. Ever striving to never leave a moments silence for fear we might hear the echoes of past and future events as they paint a momentous portrait of intimacy. And so we construct our lives so we never have to stand exposed to the infinite which shouts that we are nothing, yet we are nonetheless loved. We fight with all our might to never let this truth penetrate. We pay homage to that which we dare not honestly admit by constructing our own good works, acts of charity, formulations of ritual, all the time self-deluded about our poverty; we'll do anything rather than stand naked in time.
Perhaps one of the greatest treasures of heaven will be if we become unbound from time.
ME: I tried to be still. I really did. I tried again and again. I tried to still my inner self and stand without pretense in the face of the Omniscient, Omnipresent, and Omnipotent. And in what can only be described as an act of utter and complete foolishness, even then I still make half constructed thoughts and rationalizations to try explain some value in my life. I failed. I cold not Be Still, nor fully halt my own proud progression of thoughts.
Maybe one day I will succeed, maybe only in heaven. I seek not to empty my mind (that is suicide), but to clear my senses to understand I am valued, even though my works are valueless. Till that day in heaven I don't know if I will ever be strong enough to truly Be Still, but until that day I will try and try again. There was never a more valuable thing I did, or could ever do, than to try and Be Still, and know that He is God.