Osprey

The osprey was too far away to get a good picture. Like so much in life, most of the time I only dimly see the outline of something big. Sometimes there is a flash of clarity, but it usually lasts a nanosecond and is gone.

Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday. I am going to the Noon service at the marvelous old Episcopal church downtown where Buck and I are members. I call it the “planetarium church” because of its star-dotted, sky-painted dome.

The last time I went to Ash Wednesday services there was a stainglass window shattering storm. Lights flickered and lightning slashed across wooden pews. I got rained on going from car to nave and shivered throughout the service. It is a majestic, grim service. Very satisfying. I can hardly wait.

I have been trying to remember what I did with my time in the pre-blog era.

I have deactivated my Facebook and Linked-In accounts.

I have stopped sleeping with my Android phone beside my pillow.

I have made draconian cuts in non-essential e-mail or e-mail that isn’t from someone I actually know or need to communicate with for business purposes.

I no longer multi-task.

I have begun to use a head-set to block out house noises and lock in delicious music while I write during dedicated time.

I have discovered a remarkable writing tool, Scrivener, which until recently was only availble for those lucky, savvy beings who use a Macintosh operating system.

I read a wise book by Leo Babauta, Focus. It has provided me with many useful tools at the precise moment I was ready to use them.

It was strange at first, and more than a little disconcerting, but I am getting comfortable with being alone in my own head again. Not to exclude Buck, Maggie, and you guys, my longtime virtual friends. What I am trying to say is that I have essentially stopped going down the rabbit hole of the Internet, dragged by my curious nose which picks up the scent of something even mildly interesting.

This is Fat Tuesday. I feel lush, round and grateful.

Tomorrow begins the traditional 40 days of Lent: not the time to give up sex or chocolate or wine or beef, but to give up something that hinders us from connecting with God. I want to qualify that remark, to be sure it includes everyone in the widest conception of God, even my dear friends who energetically believe in non-God.

Self-examination is the mother’s milk of writers and those of us who fancy ourselves to live on such a rarified cloud. We have brief times of normal life between long periods of discernment.  So it shouldn’t be surprising that Lent is my favorite time of year. I read somewhere that Lent offers us an opportunity to create space for grace.

Maybe it’s because the ashes remind me that its time to be getting on with whatever I am doing. And to get out of my own way.

And to be present every possible moment with that man, that love of my life; to remember that my ego won’t keep me warm at night or stroke my hair.

Thanks for stopping by. What are you writing about today?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.