It is a rare occurrence to find myself the first one awake on a Saturday morning, especially with two young boys in the house. The sun is up, there’s a light breeze tickling the leaves. The heat of the day is still to come, but right now it is fairly pleasant. It is quiet now – which likely won’t last long once the children awake. But I enjoy the moments of silence and peace when they come.
I ache for simplicity in ways I cannot even begin to count. It is not so much that I am too busy – everyone is – but rather I fear that I am wired in such a way that simplicity is too difficult a discipline to master. My mind is always working, seeking to understand why things are the way they are, why people act the way they do, and anticipating likely outcomes. In some ways, this is a gift, because it allows me to analyze a situation and strategize multiple outcomes, thereby navigating with care the choices and leadership decisions I make. Yet in other ways, it is not so much a gift, because there doesn’t seem to be an “off” switch. At times, I have an overwhelming impulse to make things right, or at least better. This, however, takes an extraordinary amount of energy – emotional, physical and spiritual. And when I fail, or fall short, frustration and anger tend to follow.
I find myself convinced that the joy I have been seeking all my life – the pure joy of living – is found in a perspective grounded in simplicity. How one manages the burdens of responsibility while maintaining a spiritual attitude of simplicity in matters of faith and daily living, I really don’t know. I’d love to figure that one out.
Nevertheless, it is quiet now. I’m still the only one awake. Time to cast my burdens and listen.
I ache for simplicity in ways I cannot even begin to count. It is not so much that I am too busy – everyone is – but rather I fear that I am wired in such a way that simplicity is too difficult a discipline to master. My mind is always working, seeking to understand why things are the way they are, why people act the way they do, and anticipating likely outcomes. In some ways, this is a gift, because it allows me to analyze a situation and strategize multiple outcomes, thereby navigating with care the choices and leadership decisions I make. Yet in other ways, it is not so much a gift, because there doesn’t seem to be an “off” switch. At times, I have an overwhelming impulse to make things right, or at least better. This, however, takes an extraordinary amount of energy – emotional, physical and spiritual. And when I fail, or fall short, frustration and anger tend to follow.
I find myself convinced that the joy I have been seeking all my life – the pure joy of living – is found in a perspective grounded in simplicity. How one manages the burdens of responsibility while maintaining a spiritual attitude of simplicity in matters of faith and daily living, I really don’t know. I’d love to figure that one out.
Nevertheless, it is quiet now. I’m still the only one awake. Time to cast my burdens and listen.
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