By noon, I feel the exhaustion set into my my muscles, even my mind and I long for a pocket of empty space in which to submerge myself.
The constant move, move move, the fill every moment of time with movement, thought, activity -- this isn't life for me anymore.
And not because I don't want it, not because I don't love the constantness of the go-go-go life -- my heart, my spirit crave the forward motion, the collaboration of ideas and conversations, the filling of empty slots on the clock and the calendar with all the good, with all the beautiful, with all the extraordinary places and people and ideas ...
So when He first whispered Be Still I almost missed it, but
And when He said it again
I lingered in the thought longer, breaked more often.
And when the words were repeated over and over
I began digging myself out of the calendar of commitment
until I couldn't dig anymore
because my body simply couldn't keep digging.
And I've learned
that empty space is never really empty at all
because that's the space in which
oxygen swirls, fuels Holy Fire.