from the legal pad

there is great danger, i believe in a certain definition of holy. words, meaningless, yet unfortunate implications. see further the lows of human history, there lives little that is hxxx. forget it to move past. remember to redeem. belonging, to something, to someone- is greater than human imagination.  wholeness trumps separation. holiness breathes life to all systems: respiratory and republic.

sanctuary. mine are   rarely quite   unresolved   slow-settled. in the woods, i hear the highway. on my chair, the a/c rattles walls. i've found   coffee shops can be just as still. at desert monastery, i ventured alone at night,   into the dark   against policy. hoping. yet even there- miles from nothing,   the insects wouldn't silence. the quiet, the still, the empty-   entirely (un)holy.

i took a mickey mouse class my final semester of college, "bird watching and backpacking." the granola taught about bird calls and minimalisms. i didn't set out to learn anything. i took the class to chill:  name some birds, walk around in the woods. easy a. years later when i was deep in the desert wilderness of big bend national park, i  remembered a classroom point that i had perviously ignored and discredited. the final few miles included a lengthy climb, and  my lack of fitness and spirit compounded. rest step. i had not practiced, so mine were quite lacking in coordination. at least my mind was distracted from exhaustion. but the idea is to step, in ryhthm, with a slight-slow, pause. regardless, i made it back fine, and we got a hotel that night. rest requires form. discipline. and contrary to popular belief, it can happen in motion. i believe that rest exists in the created order. that even though the earth is continuosly spinning, in ryhthm, it rests. ev