Some folks say what’s worth doing

is worth doing

well. But I say,

what’s worth doing

is worth doing poorly, at least

at first. Why wait

for competence

when the pleasure

of  just diving in awaits? When

we play the fool

wisdom can come

after the fun.

                                                                                                               JDG

In POCKETFUL OF MIRACLES, Joan Borysenko writes of a practice Bother David Steindl-Rast  does every night before turning out the light. He thinks of one thing for which he’s never before been grateful. After practicing this for several weeks and using up obvious sources of gratitude and knowing she would be doing this practice at night, Joan Borysenko realized she was becoming more mindful during the day to notice and appreciate things she might have missed before.  I have decided to take this up as a daily practice too.  Since making a commitment to try to post a new entry on this blog each day, I have  noticed that I have become more attentive to the world around me.  With the small addition of Brother David Steindl-Rast’s practice. I hope to expand my awareness to include the many possibilities for gratitude that cross my path each day and to offer a few simple words of thanks. Already today, I found myself looking at my mailbox ( I live in the country) with a newfound appreciation and gratitude.

In the latest issue of PARABOLA is an excerpt from FLUTE SOLO by  Matthew Kelty,a Gethsemene monk who died recently at age 95. He wrote,” I am not a flutist, yet I have a flute and I play it, play it for no purpose and for no ears save God’s and my own.” He goes on to say that his purpose is not to become an accomplished flutist and that if it were, perhaps, that would be “the end of joyous freedom.” He says that he fears his “small joy [would be] driven away by concern for doing it well and turning a natural act into performance. ” This  set me to thinking about why I am writing this blog and I am led back to my original desire which was both practical and relational. I wanted  a container (a holding place  for my ponderings and wanderings) and I wanted a simple way of sharing my musings with others. Matthew Kelty reminded me that for me writing and reading are simple pleasures that I enjoy both for their own sake and for the connection to others that they can bring. In this way I am much like my dog Toby who enjoys the simple pleasure of being outdoors for its own sake, but whose enjoyment is amplified by the companionship of others.  I am  deeply appreciative of  your companionship as I read and write.