Wednesday, September 24, 2014


It's sixish when I finally show up. I get out of my car and turn around to see a gold dust lift so I grab my camera before it can settle. It occurs to me that I once prayed to be mute but then thought better of it. Now I think that thoughtless prayer has been answered in the most thoughtful way.

Within minutes the music is playing, and I am part of an assembly line of sorts.

Pick up the t-shirt.
Put down the t-shirt.
Pick up the t-shirt.
Put down the t-shirt.

Two hundred sixty-six times.

What I appreciate most, I think, is how it all quiets the mind.
Maybe that was the prayer.

This morning I wake up thinking of Rudyard Kipling. Much akin to Buckley's Hallelujah and the movie Fight Club, it can't hurt to reference Kipling once in a while.

Today I am grateful for my Dad. He's the one, I think, who taught me to put my head down and work.

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