minimalist

I have nothing to say today.  I’ve thought all day about what I could write and I’ve got nothing.  I’m currently mulling over the choice of eating a tangerine or not.  It’s sitting here, slightly bruised and imperfect, but still very orange.  This citrusy pleasure is easily the brightest thing on my desk, although the neon post-its come pretty close.  But I’m only here for 40 more minutes and then I’ll start dinner, so I don’t really need a snack.

We lost power for an hour today on campus.  See my previous post about the level of panic that sweeps through this place when we are less than fully functional.  It was very quiet without the hum of machines.  The staff cleared out shortly after it went off for an all-staff event but I stayed behind to man the phones.  It was really peaceful.  You don’t realize that heaters and computers and copiers all have an audible presence.  Shut them up and it’s almost like being outside in the middle of nowhere.

Maybe that’s why I don’t want to write today.  I just want to be in a forest, with green trees all around.  No co-workers, no machines, no screens or phones.  Just quiet.  Perhaps VWH and I need to consider a camping trip in the next few months.

Thanks, God, for peace.  Thanks for quiet places in the midst of a culture that only operates at breakneck speed.  Thanks for the gift of sleep.  And thanks for warm blankets and soft pillows with which we can embrace it.  Thanks for a day that is not overly confusing or analytical.  Just a day that is what it is.