Time for a brain cleanse

Na Pali, Kauai. paul bica/Flickr/CC BY 2.0

Time for a brain cleanse. A wipe, a reboot. Time to put away Facebook and Twitter, Instagram and text. Time to discard the list of lists that has been building since the start of the year. Time to reject the rejection letters piling up against my confidence. Time to ignore the emails flagged for never-realized follow-ups; time to relish writing the out-of-office message instead. Time to delight in the anticipation (and fulfillment) of the seven new books checked out from the library. Time to sit with my new prayer journal ... in silence. Time to make overdue phone calls, not because they are to-do list items, but because my life is a little too quiet without certain voices swirling. Time to remember life is not a chore to be completed. Time to nap. Time to escape the self-doubt and variable confidence, the constant desire to never make a mistake. Time to snorkel to bend my perspective. Time to enjoy time with my spouse, just the two of us, no plans or obligations or calendar appointments. Time to soak in the thrill of discovery instead of the security of planning. Time to watch crappy movies on a plane. Time to reacquaint myself with the sea. Time to feel the black gel pen flow across college-ruled lines while my slow-as-death laptop sits 4,690 miles away. Time to prioritize a sunrise. Time to banish guilt over my deep desire to sit still. Time to turn my back on "regular" life so I can regain the spark that makes it anything but. Time to find a coconut. Time to learn how to cut it.

Prayer #316: Clean Slate

I once asked You make me a blackboard wiped clean, with sponge marks still drying, but my choice of image was shortsighted. Why stop at chalky rewrites? Wipe the board, yes, but then draw a handle and turn it to reveal the swirl of watercolors beyond, looping and dipping in a color-soaked landscape that would make Georgia O'Keefe drool. I will draw strange birds that swoop like dragons, huge fish that dart and gleam like Perseids, friendly trees that trundle behind me so I never want for shade. With each new invention I draw, You will be both chalk and hand, the spark behind the inspiration, the artist within the spirit. May I re-discover Your marvelous palette, its rioting symphony of hue, and with it paint a world not yet envisioned.