Some things can only be learned from a low place, at least for me.
It’s hard to share, because:
- snippets come that I connect later
- I understand before I can articulate
But this time, there was one, full-circle thing: silence.
That day-in-the-pit, I couldn’t bear any sound. All I could do, even at the park for exercise, was to walk, and nothing more.
I did not open the game I play. I did not listen to music. And what I experienced was revealing.
To my surprise, a world opened up in true, living color, bathed in sound and life. And I’d been missing it. I didn’t even notice it was gone.
You see, I’d had my head down, in the mesmerizing (but make-believe) world of Pokemon Go for so long, I didn’t even notice that I’d sort-of left the real world. I’m struggling to explain this, but even as I passed people at the park on my exercise days, my senses were surrounded with full-spectrum sound, of praise music, yes. But my earphones are so good, that they blocked out even the responses of fellow humans after I’d said, “Good morning.” They silenced the sound of birds and water flowing and cars passing and conversation and life.
This lesson should have been obvious to me, but to my shock, it was not.
And if my mission field is really between my own two feet at any given moment, as Jill Briscoe said at IF Gathering this year–if it’s really in the orbit of my everyday life, then I’m missing a lot. In fact, I might be missing everything.
I don’t even know when this happened. And as I famously lament my lack of time and my struggle to complete assignments that I believe are God-given, I wonder how it happened.
I don’t know…
But the lesson was that it did.