Tell About It

“Wherever I’m going, I’m already home.” Jason Mraz

Today I jogged through the prairie, listening to a new playlist. Almost every song had the concept of home in it…some addressed it directly (i.e., Diddy-Dirty Money’s Coming Home) to hints in Jump, Little Children’s Cathedrals and Mumford & Sons’ Awake my Soul. I was particularly halted by Jason Mraz’s line in his song Living in the Moment, “Wherever I’m going, I’m already home.”

Home is such a fluid concept for me now. While I relish living in Fort Collins, I have no idea where I be living in the coming months. But I’m enticed by the sense “I’m already home.”

It invites me back to the words of John O’Donohue: “Spirituality is the art of home-coming.”

Home. Now. Here. And to come.

#awonder

Here’s a confession: I’m addicted to my phone…well, to being connected to the world on my phone. This little addiction has served me quite well as a producer. Always in touch. Mega multi-tasker. Uber productive…and yes, more than slightly distractible.

I’m discovering this little addiction can be disastrous as a writer…and a pursuer of wonder.

So, as Day #6 dwindled I turned off my phone and disconnected my laptop from wi-fi and Day #7 turned into a wonderland of silence, solitude, prayer, writing, creative thinking, and reading. Wow…a whole world of aliveness came into sharper focus.

I know I’m in a rare season when I can delay returning texts, calls and emails for 27 hours. Yet, this Day #7 experiment was so needed, I plan to integrate Old-School-Offline-Wonder-Wednesdays into my schedule. We’ll see how long it last…hopefully long enough to break my addiction.

*OK, here’s another confession…I checked my phone 2x while writing this short post…Oh FOMO, my can’t I shake you?

White Space

I’ve been so excited about the concept of white space–margin venturing into my world that has been crammed with words, images, noises. I’m typically drawn to the blank page, to the turn of a year, to an open block of time. But perhaps the appeal really hasn’t been the white space, rather the opportunity to fill something up.

I have a confession: I’ve struggled letting myself be quiet and embrace the white during this first unscheduled week of my Unemployment Tour.

I’ve needed physical props to remind the gift of this season. So I went snowshoeing in the prairie again. I played “You Make Me Brave” on repeat…and stammered in the snow.

I’m discovering that to experience wonder I need to be still…to let the white wash over me. I must become a Partaker in the Pause, and right now that requires courage.

God, make me brave.

White space, here I come.