Cold Coffee, Moving Forward…

I am sitting at my desk too fatigued to type, too tired to try. Neither my spirit nor my flesh are even willing, much less able. I know that if I do not write now, I will not write today. This is my only window to create.


In an essay called “On Living Behind Bars” Nancy Mairs writes:


My brain is frayed with the need to produce, but I am paralyzed…I feel pent up, desperate. My ability rides me. My lack of it tortures me. I am torn apart.


I can only second these sentiments.I desperately desire to make something. I look over the to-do list of projects and ideas I could work on but I cannot muster the motion. I cannot manage the movement.


The microwave beeps continuously, reminding me that the coffee gone cold and already reheated twice is ready once again, hoping that this third time will be the charm. I sit unmoved by its provocations. I cannot muster the motion. I cannot manage the movement. 


I wonder if I am the coffee cooled to room temperature through melancholy’s wanton disinterest.


I take a sip.


It is not as warm as I’d like but it will do.


I find a few words. They too are not as warm as I’d like but they will do.


Some days are like this. 


The coffee gets cold. We drink it anyway because we’ll take what we can get, and we let that be enough.


The “heat” wanes more than it waxes. The “spark” is only strong enough to flicker, and it fades before it ever becomes a flame.


It’s strenuous to scribble words into sentences. We write them anyway because we’ll take what we can get, and we let that be enough.


We worry so much about “moving forward”, about “making progress”, about “moving the needle”. Maybe any move, moves us forward. Maybe every movement makes progress.


Perhaps, if we are moving at all, then we are moving forward…

Gratitude is Mutinous…

Almost a month ago I posted an essay called “Grace Through the Cracks”.


In that essay, I wrote that “Maybe gratitude is a kind of mutiny”, because it “refuses to be submissive or obedient”.


I didn’t think much about those lines at the time but, the imagery of gratitude as a mutinous activity, a rebellion against authority, a refusal to take orders, has really stuck with me.


The picture at the top of this post is proof of that admission. A couple days ago I sat down at my desk to test out some new brushes in Photoshop, and that picture is what arrived. I can’t say it came from “nowhere”. An image like that has been in my head for a while but, I didn’t plan on making it when I began doodling with the new brushes but, I’m grateful that it showed up anyway.


I suppose that also proves how rebelliously insubordinate “gratitude” is.


Gratitude is an active resistance against apathetic passivity. Gratitude subverts the status quo by refusing to see anything as “status quo” . It is a mutiny against the mundane. Through the treachery of thankfulness the mundane is elevated to a place of magnificence.


Our morning coffee becomes an Opus Dei, every commute becomes a pilgrimage. With profane gratuitousness everything becomes sacred…