You may be here because you can’t possibly fathom how anyone can write a blog post with a title like that.
And I am here trying to write something. Anything.
I’ve been feeling bone-dry lately.
Sometimes writing is an overwhelming spring of revelation and glorious thoughts, bubbling up out of “The Brook(e)” within me.
Sometimes, it’s more like scrapping the bottom of an old smelly yellow tub of “I Can’t Believe You Think This Tastes Like Butter.”
Thoughts thinly spread on dry toast with a dull knife, barely giving it any flavor or moisture.
My mind becomes fragmented, everything is rushed. My consciousness becomes split, no longer whole but the world seen via blips of images, tweets and half-finished sentences.
I don’t know how to st———-.
Is it just the world we are liv———-?
Did I develop ADD or am I just going cra——– Oh my gosh, I hear a donkey outside!
Today I went for a walk. It was gorgeous out, but I hardly took it in because I was thinking of the googling jobs in Fort Worth, or changing the banner of website for the book I’ve been writing.
(I did both by the way. No jobs yet, but here is the site. I had to put a little promotion in here.)
What a shame. What a shame I didn’t notice how vividly green the grass is for it being the last day of January.
What a shame I didn’t notice the lone baby donkey staring at me from the other side of a fence, wondering who I was and why I was walking down his road.
What a shame my mind was so scattered I forgot to stop and see the sunset, to let the colors melt over me and seep inside of me and change me, maybe giving me some consistency, some flow of thought, some together-ness.
I am so sick of being distracted. Distracted from beauty. Distracted from LIFE.
When your mind is in multiple places, you can’t take everything in. You can’t be still and know, you can’t realize how much magic is in the day.
Oh, distraction is the devil!
The other morning I was driving to work.
(This sounds like normal sentence. But the fact I am driving to work is an anomalous thing for me. My last job, I rode my bike to work. Not because I am a hipster, but because I really couldn’t afford a car. Now I have one, although it’s like this strange purple/grey/maroon color. I digress.)
I was driving to work down a winding country road and my mind was full of random thoughts of things to do, worrying about my finances, etc, etc. blah blah blah.
Distractions.
I decided to talk to God, briefly.
(I love the line from the poem “The Vision” “Our feeble half-whispered, faithless prayer.” I often feel those are the only prayers I can pray.)
“Help me
to see
all the beauty
around me…
Like a child.”
Done. That’s it. That’s as “spiritual” as I get lately.
( And to think I used to intercede for the nations until my sweat turned to blood. Ok, not really.)
And then, as my prayer ended, a deer jumped in front of me.
I stopped.
I wasn’t in danger of hitting him, really. I was going slow enough.
We stared at each other for a moment.
I managed to get this photograph
Then, he bounded the rest of the way across the road, leapt over fence that had to be at least 6 feet tall, and proceeded to frolic down a path running parallel with the road.
“Race you!” I said out loud, laughing uncontrollably, feeling like a psycho, but letting it all go.
I slowed down to make it a fair race, until I was going the same speed as Mr. Deer.
And we traversed side-by-side for a while, I in my funny colored car, and Mr. Deer free in the wild.
Then he disappeared into the forest. He had apparently won.
And I was left feeling somewhat like Lucy after she met Mr. Tumnus for the first time.
Feeling something like clarity.
Like my scattered worries disappeared quickly as drops of dew in the morning sun, leaving no trace.
I felt a little like I could see,
The grass. The baby donkey. The sunset. The deer.
I could listen,
to the something going around all around me,
outside my computer screen, outside my head,
Something called life.
brookelouvier.com 