Chasing after the wind

In the fields of Hovander Park near our home, the grasses have become thick and tall. Now, yellowing in the dog days of summer, their stems are more flexible, and they catch even the slightest breeze moving through their thin stalks, creating waves of gold rippling through the green cattails and random weeds that invade their territory.

Walking through those fields in the early morning, alone and with no distraction save the beauty around me, the words of King Solomon in Ecclesiastes weave through my thoughts these days.

Everything is chasing after the wind.

This last year of transitions has kept me from posting new blogs in Epiloguer.  It wasn’t that I was no longer having epiphanies.  But in the uncertainty of where we would live, and how we would heal, and what our path would be, sitting down and writing my way through those epiphanies seemed daunting. At least that’s what I told myself.  My excuse list expanded over time, crowding out any impetus to “write my way to truth.”

Now, however, in my daily walks through these fields, I have been asking all of the tough questions that I think many of us do as we journey through our “third act. "What do we gain from our toil? Why do the oppressors flourish? Why do fools have their way? And I think for people who are creatives, the other question that chews at the corner of our hearts is:

Does any of this matter?

I look for wisdom in the words of Solomon, who reflects that God has set eternity in our hearts, something we will never fathom this side of heaven.  The things that gave us meaning in the past- our work, raising families, our endeavors - decrease in importance as the years pass us by.  And in the spaces left behind, that yearning for eternity, always below the surface of life, begins to seep out.

At least it has for me.

That yearning is not for the end of this life, though.  It is a recognition that nothing here - no experience, no relationship, no earthly beauty will ever approach what is to come. My soul knows that.  And in the absence of an ordered life with externally placed structures and demands, I have only the exposed territory of my heart, hungering to experience the “known and not yet known.”

And so, what to do?

I suppose today is as good a day as any to start anew here, following Solomon's sage advice as I consider the work undone in my own life. Solomon had it all, and I have a little, and yet we share a common future.

So, I do not need to consider the troubled days of my life, for God will keep me occupied and focused on the joys of my heart.

I will find enjoyment in my labors for I have been gifted the ability and the power to rejoice in them.

And I will remember that the tranquility of God dwells within me,

and that if I rest in that place of peace,

a foretaste of the eternity to come is within my grasp.