Coming back . . . again
Vacation, new job, family stuff, other writing projects, yada, yada, yada . . . no more lines wasted on the nearly 8 week hole between posts.
A rare day off for both Julie and me has me a bit paralyzed by the abundant opportunities that the day has provided. Of course, the more time I stay paralyzed the less of a day there is left to be off. Oh well. I have been thinking a lot recently about rhythm, the way that space interrupts action, noise pierces silence. Rhythm is what soothes us, drives us, puts us in a groove. I love it when I am in the rhythm.
Conversely, I have found nothing more frustrating, more irritating, than being out of the rhythm. You white folks know what I am talking about. In my life, it is remarkable what seemingly insignificant things can throw off my rhythm: a sick child, a nasty comment, caffeine, a negative thought, an ill-advised nap, a poor choice on how to spend some free time.
I wonder if these little blips are so disruptive because I am not very intentional on developing a rhythm in my life. It seems true that rhythm becomes easier and easier to keep the longer you are in it. It slowly becomes part of your internal being, linking up with the cadence of your step, your breathing, your heartbeat. How I long for those times, so smooth and fluid that every action takes a little less effort. The rhythm compels you to move.
Starting a rhythm, however, is a whole other story. Some people need to make a choice to make some noise, to act. Others need to choose to silence the noise, to create space. I think holiness has a lot to do with when we choose to make noise and a when we chose to make space. And "church" has a lot to do with making these choices as an ensemble.
Whatever the case, it seems to me that starting the rhythm begins with listening, then responding. It is a conversation with the Holy Spirit that uses our whole body, mind and soul. It involves listening to my own noise and the rhythm that is already out there. It requires humility and submission, patience and grace. It defies independence, insisting on interdependence instead. It says, "You can march to the beat of a different drummer, but it's gonna be a real lonely parade."
I wonder if my rhythm problems are really listening problems, submission problems. Lord knows I have no problem making noise . . .
A rare day off for both Julie and me has me a bit paralyzed by the abundant opportunities that the day has provided. Of course, the more time I stay paralyzed the less of a day there is left to be off. Oh well. I have been thinking a lot recently about rhythm, the way that space interrupts action, noise pierces silence. Rhythm is what soothes us, drives us, puts us in a groove. I love it when I am in the rhythm.
Conversely, I have found nothing more frustrating, more irritating, than being out of the rhythm. You white folks know what I am talking about. In my life, it is remarkable what seemingly insignificant things can throw off my rhythm: a sick child, a nasty comment, caffeine, a negative thought, an ill-advised nap, a poor choice on how to spend some free time.
I wonder if these little blips are so disruptive because I am not very intentional on developing a rhythm in my life. It seems true that rhythm becomes easier and easier to keep the longer you are in it. It slowly becomes part of your internal being, linking up with the cadence of your step, your breathing, your heartbeat. How I long for those times, so smooth and fluid that every action takes a little less effort. The rhythm compels you to move.
Starting a rhythm, however, is a whole other story. Some people need to make a choice to make some noise, to act. Others need to choose to silence the noise, to create space. I think holiness has a lot to do with when we choose to make noise and a when we chose to make space. And "church" has a lot to do with making these choices as an ensemble.
Whatever the case, it seems to me that starting the rhythm begins with listening, then responding. It is a conversation with the Holy Spirit that uses our whole body, mind and soul. It involves listening to my own noise and the rhythm that is already out there. It requires humility and submission, patience and grace. It defies independence, insisting on interdependence instead. It says, "You can march to the beat of a different drummer, but it's gonna be a real lonely parade."
I wonder if my rhythm problems are really listening problems, submission problems. Lord knows I have no problem making noise . . .
posted by ben price at 3:19 PM
2 Comments:
Hey, Ben & Julie!
Hopefully you remember me--Amy (Shanks) Crossman from IWU. :) Just wanted to say 'hi'!
The Benedictines have something, don't they.
I'm going to recommend "Benedict's way" not as a medicine, and not as something to "add more" to your life, but just a thought...
And I'm still working on that book list... and a series of post piggybacking on your art and faith post... and I met Greg and Shannon two weeks ago.
Love to all there!
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