Wednesday, September 22, 2010
The word, from my wife just last night, is that but 13 sleeps remain between now and a few precious days in the north woods. I've got a library full of books on Native America, but I don't think I've ever seen that expression before, even though "13 sleeps" sounds vaguely Tonto-like. But then, she's as Dutch as I am--not a lick of Lakota.
Anyway, I like the sound of it, probably moreso because the thought of escaping the rat race in just 13 sleeps means there is, somewhere down the road, a light at the end of the tunnel. (I'm so busy, I don't even give a crap about mixing metaphors.)
Little more than a week ago, I printed out this picture, slid it in a little desk frame, and hauled it off to my school office, a reminder. It's got a word in it, hardly visible, really, because I'm not preacher and the moral concern isn't meant for the world, just me. It says, simply, "consider." With reference to the lilies. As in, those biblical lillies who neither toil nor spin. I know--the shot is not of lilies. Big deal. Any beauty will do. Anyway, the pic stands in my office, I think. I haven't had the time to look at it lately.
It's a reminder to slow the heck down. It's a reminder not to get wound up so blame tight that there's no me there left after the cranking. It's a reminder not to go where far too often I've gone before.
Where I am now, in fact. "Consider," it says, even though I haven't looked or listened.
Here's my only comfort right now: just 12 sleeps (it was 13 last night) separate me--separate us--from the north woods and a wonderfully long weekend away.
Just 12 sleeps. There's reason for morning thanks.