weeds are unwanted

I’m experimenting this week. Not only with being more routine in my devotional routine — that’s an easy Lenten move, and besides, I do that every week — but with ten different minutes of silence.

So to recap: there’s the reading three poems that I added in front, the fourish verses of Scripture copied, the ten minutes of contemplative prayer. Which is hard, hardhardhard, at the same time it’s light: a doing without judging.

I’m now fitting ten minutes of thinking between the poems and the passage.


Week-ago Monday in a shower of experiences I noticed — I don’t think “my own” thoughts much.

I think-about a lot, because school. I distract-think, because same. I contemplative-pray, which is designed to move toward not-thinking. But I haven’t been claiming time for blogging, or even claiming time for… I guess… daydreaming?

It doesn’t feel like dreaming—building castles of air or other things. It does feel undirected. With freedom to follow after a thread for as long as it pleases me, and shift to another when it pleases me.


It’s been so long since I heard this I don’t remember a source but

A weed is a plant growing where it’s not wanted.

I haven’t been appreciating that my mind, like my front yard, works well when it has a mix of intent and happenstance.

Time for more happenstance. It’s growing where it’s wanted.

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