Monday, September 30, 2019

I feel the air in my lungs, the tightness in my belly as I fear the day, the spill as it relaxes with my out breath. Repeatedly giving up my fear, over and over.

Of what am I afraid? The day is a mist, burnt away by the sun. And yet fear gnaws.

Lord, let me breathe out, and yet again.

(Letter #1,724)

Sunday, September 29, 2019

Let this day be one of harmony.

Let my actions not be dissonant. Let me turn my steps so they follow well-worn pathways, and let my feet fall softly. Let my hands be gentle, let my voice be at a sweet pitch, let my words be kind.

Let me volunteer, dear Lord. Let me be generous, let me be diligent, let me turn attention away from myself.

Let this day be a symphony, the notes I make unheard as they float with their brothers and sisters. Let me be one part of a chord.

(Letter #1,723)

Saturday, September 28, 2019

Are these sorrows meant for me, dear Lord? Am I to live this day amidst lack and woe?

These are gifts meant just for me. They bring me closer to others who suffer yet more.

Let my acts today be disciplined. Let my habits be orderly and my thinking straight.

Let me live as a tool in your drawer, sweet Lord. Sharpen me. Let my edge become keen, let me gather no rust.

Let me become ready, then more ready, and then again yet more.

(Letter #1,722)

Friday, September 27, 2019

Fear grips me. Fear of tomorrow’s poor performance. Fear of today’s dull stretches. Fear of what lurks around the corner. Fear of sudden calamity, and slow decay.

O Lord, shall I ask for relief, courage, strength? With such polluted thoughts, my very prayers are wrong.

Let me become awake, sweet Lord. Let me see this world rightly, as it is and not as I fear it. Let my illusions dissipate, that i may see my fears are just mist.

(Letter #1,721)

Thursday, September 26, 2019

Let me make ready to meet you. Let me approach this day, each moment, as if it were final.

How will I be judged if this day is the only one? How must I act, if there be no tomorrow? Let that, then, be my way: accepting of today’s judgment.

(Letter #1,720)

Tuesday, September 24, 2019

Let me have no reservations. If I am to improve, let me be wholehearted.

I walk along a steep ridge. Let me not topple due to inattentive steps. Let the wind blow away my self-delusions.

Let me see myself honestly, in a clear light, Lord. Grant me sight.

(Letter #1,718)

Sunday, September 22, 2019

My attention on the present is so fragile. Anything can crack it, and indeed I demolish it myself, roaming from my cushion into yesterday’s frustration and tomorrow’s calamity.

Where has my body gone? A moment ago, I felt it fully. Now I have left it, disembodied thought.

O dear Lord, let me feel my belly rise and fall, the breath slip coolly through my throat. Let me come back to my cushion pressing against my thighs, this notebook and pen solid in my hands.

Let not tomorrow visit me here.

(Letter #1,716)

Saturday, September 21, 2019

Grey morning, empty belly, empty hands. No immediate obligation.

Lord, later I will be hungry, later I will be filled, later I will have plans and chores.

I am an empty cup, an unset table, needing nothing, having nothing.

Clear glass. Shine through me, dear Lord.

(Letter #1,715)