Still amongst these rocks

I've always kind of liked this time of late February and March when the days are still short but lengthening and the winter temps have lulled us into a sort of semi-hibernating slumber in which we trudge around after the big winter holidays have passed. No matter your religious or philosophical orientation or your geographic residence, you can easily appreciate this stretching time between winter and spring. It's the perfect time for thinking, removing yourself from the fray and really siting down to mull things over. Somehow, I always picture Shakespeare's Hamlet set at this brooding time of year that hangs after the brilliance of winter has worn away and before spring has yet shown its reflection.



Today marks Ash Wednesday, the day that opens the Christian period of Lent. It's a day that reminds us that we came from dust and to dust we shall someday once again return. It's a day that marks the beginning of a period of meditation, fasting, generosity, and preparation. It's a day of reorientation in preparing for the new season ahead.

The very word Lent is Germanic (in German Lenz, meaning spring) and its roots are in a compound word of day-lengthening (see Etym Online if you are curious). How perfectly appropriate as we inch towards the promises and hopes -- be they natural splendors, religious celebrations, or longer days -- of spring.

T.S. Eliot wrote a poem that I stumbled onto today called Ash Wednesday. It's a remarkable poem, and following stanza followed me after reading:

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessèd face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice

The poem concludes with another sticking point from Eliot's journey: "Teach us to sit still/even among these rocks. These rocks have really gotten in my way lately, and I have found myself reacting to the most innocuous barb in a cynical, satirical fashion, often before processing the entire encounter. This nastiness is not warranted and demands some examination -- some sitting still.

After much thought, I've decided to undertake a Lenten challenge this year. I'm not going to pretend to give up something that is really a self-improvement project in disguise, and I'm not going to overwhelm my schedule with more commitments. Instead, I am going to accept the challenge to sit still ... even among these many rocks by which I am surrounded and sometimes engulfed. Instead, I am going to take the next 40 days (with the exception of Sundays) to brood productively through 40 postings that take time to look at some of the small but significant current miracles in my everyday life. 40 days for 40 wonders of this life, these moments, and these rocks.

This posting to all of you, my friends and family of many nations, educations, and religious followings, is not meant as a religious diatribe. Instead, please take it as an invitation to sit still with me on this wintertime journey.