In the midst of all the hustle and bustle of modern life, the myriad of choices available to us, and the creature comforts we have amassed, why do we so often feel bored? A while back, I heard a sermon that developed the idea that we habitually look for monumental events to mark our lives, even to feel alive; yet it’s mostly in the mundane that life is best lived. Soon thereafter, I was moved to write the following:
THE ORDINARINESS OF NOONS
On a cafe porch, I sat alone one noon
And reflected on a most conceptual matter
-Whether this hour came too late or came too soon.
And concluded it was, decidedly, the latter.
It seemed to me, it had only just been dawn,
And now the hours had begun to run together;
And before I knew it, half the day was gone,
While I pondered the ifs, ands, buts, and even whether
General boredom had simply crept into my day.
Then I pressed on to a deeper deliberation
-Has the noon hour the slightest distinction in any way?
And as I delved into this latest exploration,
The most exquisite butterfly danced into my view.
Distractedly, my jaw began to drop.
His patterned wings against a sky so powder-blue,
Brought my present line of thinking to a stop.
Then I caught a faint reflection of the moon;
And the leaves began to rustle with the winds;
I heard a robin sing the sweetest-ever tune;
And saw a man cross the street to greet his friends.
To top it off, upon my table, was a rose.
I was surrounded by such scenes I’d missed before,
And sank back into my chair in rapt repose,
Amidst the breeze, the fragrant scents, and so much more.
Then a whole new revelation sprang to mind
-That I was seeing more of God and less of me.
Whereas before to these surrounds, I had been blind;
Now the beauty and the joys were plain to see.
And the question on which I took the time to dwell,
My mind replaced with butterflies and daytime moons.
It took the pageantry of Creation to dispel
The very notion of the ordinariness of noons.
I hope this encourages you to enjoy the splendor of the ordinary today.
© 06/04/2013 All rights reserved