Hidden treasures in the midst of small things
by Stan Faryna
I have looked down from mountain tops, breathlessly. I have looked down from my little window in business class, looked down upon the clouds, and sighed at their beauty. I have moved over the waters – riding upon the wind. I have danced and slipped around icy, white sharp-turns in the midst of mighty pines falling sleep as they prayed. The soft snowflakes fell as big as gumballs. The stillness and quiet was divine- interrupted only by the whine of the downshift.
Johann Sebastien Bach, Cello Suite No. 1. Performed by Pablo Casals
I have hoarded the smiles and laughter of friends and family. I have hoarded them like a king’s ransom in the vaults of my heart.
I have descended into deep chasms and walked for hours with thirst. Upon a rocky trail. And the view was breathless too – though my tongue was swollen, my lips were broken, and the blisters on my feet made me painfully aware of each step made in the next 10,000 steps. I have crawled on my belly into the lairs of snakes (pit vipers) and, once, into the teeth of a combine. And found myself stuck and I waited for death to come. Apparently, death was delayed on those days. No one knows how to keep an appointment.
The view, also beautiful – in its own strange way.
Most of my days, however, I live out the me in small things. I am made and unmade in small things. In the inches of the day.
Small joys, encouragements, reliefs, and flashes of insight. Like fireflies in the night. They do not always illuminate the world. Most of the time – they do not.
There are also aches, insults, and naseau, a stab or a burning flare, uncontrolled twitches, matters of conscience, sorrow, headaches, and oh oh oh – the disappointments.
There are also the small, consistent acts of love: retweets and tweets, likes and comments, link love, #FFs, plusses, encouragement, sympathies and congratulations…
Doing the dishes, making a meal to be shared, and, yes, even scrubbing around the toilet bowl.
Sometimes, a day gathers them all into her arms. Like a mother or father gathers a child into their arms. Like a heart receiving beauty from God.
At the center of it all is the silence of the heart – a profound presence that becomes obvious among the small and quiet things. Some will mistake it for sleep. Others may mistake it for boredom or, yes, emptiness.
Do not abandon it. Do not flee from silence. Listen to it. It speaks with unmistakable authority.
Yes, sometimes, we need those big things to better live and know the small things – there, where the silence of the heart speaks loudest to us.
01 May 2012
If you think that this blog post sucks, let me know in your comment and don’t forget to include a link to YOUR favorite blog post.
If you think this blog post rocks, tell me why it rocks in the comment. “Awesome,””Great post,” etc. works for me. Don’t forget to include a link to YOUR most recent blog post.
Subscribe to this blog if you would enjoy keeping up with my thoughts and commentary. Like it, rate it and share it – if you want to give me some love.
If you want to fuel my self-esteem and help me to one day negotiate a fair and handsome contract for my epic science fiction novel, please like my fan page on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/Faryna.FanPage