Every morning I wake up to a seventh story view of the eastern Dallas skyline against the early morning darkness.
My perspective of course is enhanced by the fact I sleep in the top bunk of a bunk bed.
And I wake up facing the skyline because that’s the direction of my vibrating phone come 530am or so.
And thus starts the typical weekday.
Weekends are a wild card as far as time of rising, but the sensation of facing the skyline each day doesn’t change.
Because of the seventh story dwelling place, going anywhere now involves an elevator ride, which at times can be eventful.
And parallel parking along St. Joseph street every night is becoming second nature.
Walking past a pool that is in the shadow of the skyline but still is sheltered by a very thoughtfully perserved large, I’m guessing Oak tree (but am probably way off) adds an aesthetic dimension to life, especially coupled with the sound of rushing water from the fountain nearby.
In a nutshell, that’s the start of most everyday.
Minus the description of bathroom happenings, the groggily poured glass of water to wake up the metabolism, and the dressing in the dark.
Today oddly enough was no different, however, my phone did not get the memo about falling back so I got redemption from what I thought was over sleeping an hour.
Funny how things work out that way.
This day however, the destination was a favored Starbucks in Arlington and a generally pleasing drive along I-20, today being no exception especially given the jump I had on the sunrise.
Most of last spring I used to come here every Sunday and I think I may just start doing that again simply for the mental and spiritual benefits that come with a weekly retreat.
Also the practice of timelessness helps as well.
In general this means I refuse to look at or track the time for the better part of a day.
In the most basic sense it’s making me work against my natural tendency of jumping ahead of myself.
Not knowing what time it is oddly enough forces one to stay in the present moment more fully than keeping an eye on the clock.
Because let’s be honest, looking at clock never happens because you’re enjoying the moment so much that won’t to know what time it is so you can commemerate it later.
Well I mean that does happen I suppose some times.
But no, generally we look at the clock to see what time it is to know how much longer we have to endure whatever it is we are doing, or to find out if it is time to move on to some other activity or event.
Rather than being where we are, we watch the clock and think about where we’re not and what we could be doing instead of what we are doing.
Its good practice to forget all that for a day, go to some other place and just be there fully absorbed in whatever it is you are doing to refresh your soul.
Time will pass on its own, you don’t have to document it.
So that in mind, now that’s I’ve warmed up, time to write about something a little more weighty; of, in the words of the poets, “what the writings of a thousand lifetimes could not explain, if all the forest trees were pens and all the oceans were ink.”
So here’s to filling up mentally and spiritually, being ready to spill when the oppurtunity rises.
Oh what am I to think…