day one. now what?

saturday. dust, wet towels, and unopened mail are piling. and when i first opened my eyes to the possibility of a free day, free from commitments, my first thought was ‘now what?’ if even it was silence it would have been better. the silence of waking, the silence of my own life. the pregnant pause before expectation, the rush of stillness. but instead it was interrupted by a cynic, and with his one question the day began already at a loss, at a position much further back from the gate, from a spot where there is still a point at which one can decide to approach the gate or not. from a spot before Rise, before Try, before Go. a place brought in to being by a whisper that may as well have been the devil himself saying ‘now what?’

i start here. stirring and thinking and writing and hoping for a better answer or even a way out of the question. i feel guilty and privileged for even asking it and now for even sitting with it. i read news, i watch a video at the new york times about iraqi college grads and how they can celebrate their survival in as much if not more earnestness than their achievement in completing their education, and yet any hopes for beginning their careers in their very own country, their home city — have been violently taken from them along with their security. and i wake up in my city, in my country free from strife and beg the question beggeted from boredom ‘now what?’

i start here. and by grace i have words written for me. First from God and then from one of his scribes.

Be silent and know that I am God (Ps. 46:10).

Be silent and know that even by my silence and absence I am known (Buechner).

and still beyond these words, as my laziest hopes wait for that one answer strong enough to push me to Rise, to Try, to Go, i read again:

God himself does not give answers. He gives himself, and into the midst of the whirlwind of his absence gives himself (Buechner).

that’s enough for the now.