That Moment of Silence

I have been feeling sad and out of tune lately. I think I understand the source of my blues. I feel overwhelmed. I have to remind myself that all of this comes from inside and it comes from my own doing or my lack or my lack of doing. Even though I know that the best medicine for the blues is to stop, sit quietly, breathe and go to my source, I can’t always get to a place where I feel the sense of peace and harmony that I—that we all—long for. But sometimes in the clamberings and confusion, sometimes in the simply putting one foot in front of the other as we make our way, we remember what we always know deep inside, even if only a glimpse.

Before daybreak today I went out to my car to get the book that has lately been a part of my morning readings. As I made my way in the dark, no flashlight to guide my steps, the morning air reminded me that we are not quite to spring. My two sisters and I went on a mission in my car yesterday, and I didn’t remember where I had stowed this little paperback titled “Irresistible Revolution”. But when I opened the back door on the driver’s side, there it lay, in the very position where it landed when I hurriedly tossed it out of the way. Gratefully, I retrieved it and headed back to my front door.

As I made my way, the last sliver of the moon hung in the sky, and the sound of the fountain in my garden made whisper in the quiet. It was too early for the morning chorus of birds in this rural sanctuary. All was waiting. I felt that moment of silence, and I smiled.

Normangee, Texas (March 13, 2010)
R. Harold Hollis