Taking Time

“It is a blessing to get old. To find the time to do the things. To read the books. To listen to the music.”


I still see myself as young. Not that I don’t get a bit tired of the bewildered looks when I get carded (“you barely look old enough to drive!”), or being called an intern pretty regularly at every job I’ve ever had; but nonetheless, I regard myself as early in life.

This is not entirely inappropriate, my blue-haired garden ladies remind me, I am still under 30. Over the past few months, however, I have gotten quite a bit older. Or at least my heart feels that way.

There’s been too much recently that wedges its way into my vision, insisting to be recognized. Seemingly taunting with loss, sadness, vulnerability, damage.

“I cry a lot because my friends die. And I can’t stop them. They leave me.”


I’ve wandered in a bit of stunned shock over the past two months; holes ripped in my Boston, my friends, my life. Little glimmers enter my vision, from watching the baby robins grow to sunsets on the dock, from hiking in the rain to beers shared with friends.

As Sendak says, I remain in love with this world.

Our wisdom comes from engagement, from being in, from whatever type of faith then follows. I remain proud of the Pope’s recent words that so resonate with Sendak, “The root of this possibility of doing good – that we all have – is in creation…[For] all of us, not just Catholics. Everyone! ‘Father, the atheists?’ Even the atheists. Everyone! … We must meet one another doing good. ‘But I don’t believe, Father, I am an atheist!’ But do good: we will meet one another there.”

We meet together regardless of background, in shared existence. In the understanding or discovery that “Caminante no hay camino, se hace el camino al andar.” (Traveler there is no road, we make the road by walking.)

And so I walk.

“Live your life, live your life, live your life.”


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