“Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,
which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished.”
I tend to feel similar, at times literally, to what the beginning of this stanza describes. On days when my clothes are especially raggedy and I feel significantly old, or worn down, and still not yet satisfied in any way. Like a relentless cycle of living to fight my way out of dissatisfaction- "still not half-perfect" in more ways than one.
Then and there is where I deal with having to (literally) transform my entire mind. And lately I've been wondering how exactly I not only do that, but maintain it, because if I achieve transformation- stepping into the Lord's presence- it is altogether fleeting.
What does living- in a reality- of His presence look like.. not something that coaxes me out of bed or lulls me to sleep or calms my shivery brain. It's as though I don't understand where the Lord's presence is, but more so, do not understand how exactly I can weasel my way into it. I'm familiar with every instruction each of us have resting on the tips of our tongues, but really- How does it become weaved into my body, spirit, time, conversation, thoughts, activity, rest, relationships and work? How does it become constant? Because I can no longer bear these days, these minutes, without it. When it is gone, or when I have left, I find myself to have chased after some other thing- reckless and headlong- only to still hold empty hands. Wringing dry what was hardly wet in the first place.
Then Mary Oliver comes into play: "Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,
which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished.”
Simply put. Standing still.
But how does one renew a mind to constantly achieve such a stillness?
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