Day 5 – A Cracked Wheat Berry Is Stuck in My Teeth

When I simply have the time or when I courageously wrestle it from a calendar packed schedule, either way, I marvel at where my mind wanders. Today I was in line for a free refill of coffee at Tully’s when I noticed that my tongue was flicking at a wheat berry stuck in one of my molars. That seemingly mundane discovery led me down a serendipitous path of musings.

It seems of late that my teeth are more susceptible to sticking to small morsels of food. Whether it is beef stuck in a gap between incisors or a raspberry seed stuck in an enameled crevice, the incidences of these phenomena seem to be increasing. I wonder if my propensity for this particular annoyance is a result of physical changes due to aging or to a greater awareness of something that has been occurring since I began to eat solid food. Either way, I wonder about what this particular type of aggravation is meant to accomplish.

Maybe I’m putting to great a point to it but one possibility seems to be that it captures my attention, slows my mind and pinpoints my thinking. As a result I’m released to wonder more freely. All too frequently these days I catch myself thinking about the next item on a long to-do list or the email I must write or the appointment that needs scheduling. The distraction of a stuck wheat berry wraps my attention holding it captive until by toothpick, floss, or matchbook cover I dislodge the particle and find relief. Here’s the kicker; the relief comes not only from physical release but also from the focus of my otherwise fragmented thinking to be single-minded. For those few refreshing moments, my mind reboots itself of the cultural clutter and, as a result, I am free to wonder more fully.

Day 4 – Truth Telling

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant---
Success in Cirrcuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise

As Lightening to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind---Emily Dickenson

I wonder what the slant telling of the truth of Christian education sounds like. I’m sure it is not the gibberish of a balanced approach to learning nor is it the swish of the great pendulum swinging back toward center. I’m just as sure that it includes a lyrical melody of imagination and creativity, with plenty of rests for the time to reflect on its paradoxes and harmonized with logic so that the final song makes sense to the mind and to the ear.

Our ways of thinking are so acculturated that we do not see ourselves accurately. At our best of times we are looking toward a foggy mirror. Even as we look intently, moving from side to side hoping for a better viewpoint, we never quite get a clear picture. If that is the case we must hold any truth we tell lightly because it is full of the bias of our experience.

Often the best answer to the question, “What is truth?” is “The Truth is a person.” This is true enough but what does it mean, really? Again we are stuck in the mindset imposed by our culture and hold to the notion that truth is only in the telling. Living the truth is incomprehensible. We easily separate what is in our mind from that which is in our heart. We are separatists by nature and put our knowing the truth a great distance from our doing anything about it. Herein lies the greatest difficulty in a slant telling of the truth, whether it be about Christian education or any other worthy endeavor.

Seedlings

Day 3 – breaking the barrier of three consecutive days of writing . . .

They’re dead. The sunflower seedlings planted on Sunday shriveled in Monday’s sun and died by Tuesday morning. I tried to revive them with a spray of cool water, but I was too late. Fortunately a few seeds remain in the package, and I can try again this afternoon.

Faithful care in the early days of any new life is necessary to minimize the effects of the environment and encourage growth. Just as babies need food, warmth and love at regular intervals, seedlings need a regular dose of water. I failed in that simple task to the young shoot’s demise.

It is much the same for me when I am incorporating a new discipline, writing for instance, into my daily routine. I must guard the time with care, not leave it until the last moment of wakefulness, and nourish the burgeoning instinct like a seedling in the hot sun. Otherwise like the tender sprout, the new discipline will wither and fade away.

Routines

Day 2 Again – Routines bolster discipline. Routines also automate some of life’s menial tasks. Today I relaxed through an oatmeal breakfast so much that I had to sprint to my bike right passed the bathroom routines that include objects like a toothbrush, contact lens and deodorant. So later in the morning I ended up smelly and struggling to read.

So Routines are helpful, although I do not fully ascribe to their value life. They do take time, and time spent is never recaptured for the serendipitous moments that breathe life into monotony. If Job’s friends of the Bible were here they would commend me to prudence and balance. These lifeless attributes also smell in their own way.

So for now I’m left to writing larger than normal and to sitting outside in the breeze so the smell is carried away. None-the-less I greatly enjoyed today’s cycling, and the annoyances, that would have been avoided by following a routine, will fade away by the end of the ride.

Discipline

Mulligan, Day 1 Do Over - Discipline, too easily conceived, rapidly turns into unfulfilled dreams. Friday the goal to write for 350 consecutive days fizzled to a wisp of smoke like a fuse on a dud of a firecracker. The jam packed day full of wants and needs pushed out time for writing. Now I'm left with a hollow feeling in my gut carved with the knife of a broken promise to myself.

But today is a new day for crawling back on the bike. Last Wednesday I avoided a small fall by planting my left foot firmly on the ground as my front tire squeezed into a crack on the bike trail in Renton. The near miss did not keep me from clipping in and riding on. So too, I'll move forward and write a little every day. I have to write to keep ideas moving from mind through pen to page. A part of last week's failure melts with each stroke of the pen. Word by word I regain the commitment to myself.

Main Street

Day 2 –

Main Street Bellevue, bathed in record heat, registered eighty-eight for a high today. Main Street Yabus, in the Sudan, Africa scorched by the sun day in and day out, is paved with dust. City people speed along crowded streets in air-conditioned comfort. The Sudanese walk from place to place barefoot. Too often in the U.S. when someone cuts another off, the first honks, shouts profanity or waves the finger. In Africa people have time to stop to shake your hand in a friendly greeting.

A few weeks ago I noticed a t-shirt with these words on the front, “I need Africa more than Africa needs me.” This is truth for me because during my short three weeks in that developing country I discovered people of extreme joy living in the harshest conditions. It is a struggle just to make shelter and find safe water to drink and food to eat. Yet, after fifty years of civil war, the country weakened by conflict hobbles toward unity and peace. The people have a great hope for a whole country. I learned much from Africa and still have much more to learn about joy, hope and peace.

365 Days of Writing for 31 Minutes

Day 1 – June 3, 2009

My mind and my feet spun along easily and automatically. The zone I was in surrounded me completely. I sensed time only in the periphery of movement and ideas. Ideas floated into thought like bubbles surfacing in seltzer. Two prevailed on the surface of my memory throughout the two-hour ride. The one demanded discipline and commitment. Would it last?

Yesterday a friend emailed a short article to me about committing a short time each day to work on a big project. I’ve had a long-term goal to do some writing, but not being a writer, I seem to put of “official” writing into some future time. The article quoted T.S. Elliot, “When forced to work within a strict framework the imagination is taxed to its upmost–-and will produce its richest ideas. Given total freedom the work is likely to sprawl.”

So, I’m setting a goal, a commitment to write for 31 minutes every day for one year, 365 days! I hope the discipline improves my writing and my life. I chose 31 minutes because it is small and arbitrary, just like the article suggests.