By now you've heard: Coming Clean came into the world last Tuesday. Instead of sitting at the computer, hitting refresh to see whether anyone was placing Amazon orders or posting photos of the book at Barnes & Noble (I can be a little neurotic, see), I snuck away to Montana, where the full moon rose over every high desert morning. My internet connectivity was stripped down to about thirty minutes a day, and my cellphone received reception as well as an Acme brick. In Montana, I found a refuge from the noise of business, from the noise of busyness. It was pure magic.
I'm home, and I suppose it's time to get back to work. I'm laboring with a refreshed soul, an internal battery filled by solar power and good laughter. It's a human feeling, a good feeling.
We all need rest. Today, I'm inviting you to sit and rest a while, too. Read some good words and consider the lilies. They're here today and gone tomorrow; you know?
Amber penned a Marriage Letter to me on Tuesday. It's beautiful. She writes:
[tweetherder]I tell my friends that you are kin to the quiet.[/tweetherder] You can sit at your desk and step into the river. You call it “inner sobriety.” I watch you, and I want it. I’m a busy-headed chicken in circles, and you’re a cool cucumber on a vine. You’re attached to your peace.
Pain, whether great or small, is the reminder that we are not inanimate, plastic things. We are not machines meant to go about in numb, metallic, programmed action.
We are not fungible goods, items that when broken can be replaced with other unbroken items. We are meant to feel the pain of our un-thingness.
I met a new friend this weekend, Phillip Larue, and he's more legitimate than the crown jewels. Listen to a little music he penned, then read about the genesis of "Memories." Phillip is a good one. Watch him closely. They call fellas like this a tour de force.
Every day deserves a name. Name today "rest," and take advantage of it. Fall into it. Breathe a little. Listen to music. Find some art. Take a nap. Live a little.
Peace, peace, peace; in all things peace.