Zoom in. To the pen and paper. The way the ink feels as it slides across the page. Turning lines into letters. Thoughts - abstract and uncertain - into words. Words into sentences, careless about the sense they make. The question is always what to write. The weather. The way the sky looks as the day begins. The sounds of a house not yet awake. A day just barely begun. The list of things to-do today. My body is tired and restless at the same time. My heart longs for God.
Zoom in. To the bucket dipping into the well of my soul, wondering if I have to lower it all that much to get anything. I hope not. I hope the water is further down. I hope insight and creativity pool with it.
I hope there will always be enough.
There's that word again. Enough.
I think there will. Always be enough, that is.
If I look at the world - and not just my part of it. Not just my corner.
Look beyond the scope of my eyes. There's really a lot out there. Given. Provided.
If I think even longer at it, I realize that we had absolutely nothing to do with it. With the way it got here or how it came to be. Enough before my very eyes and beyond my very eyes.
All of our eyes.
Blue. Green. Brown. Gray. Darker Brown. Steel. Colors that mix together.
I had nothing to do with how enough got here. But I have something to do with how it can continue to be enough.
My saddest days are when my green eyes see infinite as finite. When enough expires.
It comes with confusion, chaos, insanity. Everyone running around like headless chickens screaming, "mine!"
Then I think about the story of the loaves and fishes. Every stomach filled. Every heart full. Every pair of eyes looked into and cared for. And then - leftovers.
If that is the meaning of our existence, then we have some work to do.
Zoom out. Look beyond my eyes. There is enough.
Go and live as though you see it.