Why it doesn’t bother me that it is pouring rain at 7:00 AM on a workday…
The last two days have been a pair of the most incredible days I have had in a long, long time. I spent at least ten hours outside each day, walking the city and Central Park, sitting in public plazas writing, people watching to my heart’s fill, and talking to a friend for hours.
The exercise (over 150 blocks) was most welcome and left my body stretched, happy, and a warm, contented receptor of sleep at day’s end.
The people-watching was food for much contemplation—I inadvertently became a spectator to a deal for buying black market sunglasses where someone was willing to sell herself to get the brand she sought. I also passed by a series of seven or eight street vendors all of whom were feather-dusting their wares at the same time. Intriguing.
The writing was rich and textured according to where I was when picking up pen and paper. I wrote a homily for Friday, I wrote of my surroundings, I mused about the way the trees cradle pockets of set-aside space in the midst of the concrete tonnage…
The talking…well, it has been an experience unlike anything I have known. I could talk for hours—we have talked for hours—at a time and still there is more to say, more to wonder together, more to discuss and consider…there is no tiring of listening… It is such a gift.
So, if the outpouring of rain now is the expense for the two days of glory, bring it on, I say. It’s rather soothing, actually…to be here with my coffee, hearing the solid, though gentle, whapping against the window…wondering what God has in store next.
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