Make a place to sit down.
Sit down. Be quiet....
Breathe with unconditional breath
the unconditioned air....
Accept what comes from silence.
Make the best you can of it.
Of the little words that come
out of the silence, like prayers
prayed back to the one who prays,
make a poem that does not disturb
the silence from which it came.
Wendell Berry, How To Be a Poet
Last night, out of a new book randomly opened, I found a reference to this poem. At six in the morning, its rhythm and hushed softness is any day's perfect beginning. Yesterday was a trial for patience. I returned from the mountains needing to have an xray of right knee, realized I'd left my wallet at the cabin, and the garage door wouldn't open and then wouldn't close. Before dinner the doctor called to report the probability of tissue damage and nothing more. Aside from imagining having a cortisone shot and perhaps surgery deferred to October, I didn't get ahead of myself. I accepted what might come of all of this and made the best of it.
Baruch ata adonai...though my prayers to you are often prayed while typing on the computer first thing in the morning, something I feel is not quite right, these last few years of praying to you have created a peaceful pacing inside me. Something like patience. Well, you know. I just wanted to say I recognize it too. Amen