An indolent pace- not just for Chesterton

Hmm... ok, raindrops on the water going over a small dam.

It always takes me a few days to get into a rhythm here in the Hills. Urgent tasks crowd my first days and then it begins to sink in, I am really alone out in the country.  I panic a bit and wonder if I need to plan another trip... then I sleep in a bit,  shake myself, and wander along a back road. And suddenly, my spirit is restored and I am settled in.  And grateful to be here and l for any insight I may gain.

And usually grateful for amazing weather- I never complain if there is lots of sun. But this week has been cloudy, drizzly, foggy, a bit snowy or sleety- whatever rain is called when it's a bit solid in May. I was grumbling as I drove to town yesterday- I want sunshine!

But rain has it's own pleasures. The occasional traffic by my house kicks up less dust on the gravel road.  No need for sunscreen on my all-too-pale skin.  And I love the beautiful way a bit of water washes surfaces and brings out details in the mundane all around me.

I have been enjoying GK Chesterton and his lovely essays, Tremendous Trifles. I was introduced to Trifles by a very witty English blog at http://malcolmguite.wordpress.com/2012/04/30/gk-chesterton-natural-born-blogger/.   I should say a witty Englishman, Malcolm Guite, writes a blog and refers often to Chesterton, a brilliant and also witty, twentieth century English writer and philosopher.  Those English- even their writings echo that appealing accent.

In his introduction to Tremendous Trifles, Chesterton compares his essays to the very popular writings of a contemporay, fellow Englishman Rudyard Kipling -


"The purpose of the Kipling literature is to show how many extraordinary things a man may see if he is active and strides from continent to continent like the giant in my tale. But the object of my school is to show how many extraordinary things even a lazy and ordinary man may see if he can spur himself to the single activity of seeing.      For this purpose I have taken the laziest person of my acquaintance, that is myself; and made an idle diary of such odd things as I have fallen over by accident, in walking in a very limited area at a very indolent pace."

I love that- "an idle diary of such odd things as I have fallen over by accident." Since he notoriously missed his train, Chesterton often wrote essays in the station as he waited for another, he once rode to the end of the line just to eavesdrop on an arresting conversation; he heard and saw life all around him.  Life worth observing and commenting on.

I don't have a train or subway to ride. I don't have many conversations to overhear.  But I can chose to move at a more indolent pace, to see what life brings into my line of sight for each new day.  And I can comment on my world and so, dig up for myself the riches this quiet pace can bring.

"Everything is in an attitude of mind; and at this moment I am in a comfortable attitude. I will sit still and let the marvels and the adventures settle on me like flies. There are plenty of them, I assure you. The world will never starve for want of wonders; but only for want of wonder."


So in the spirit of GK Chesterton, I stopped grumbling as I drove to my errands. And I was able to stop along my way, to take a few moments to see my world. 

Nothing very special so far....

The contrast of the grasses, the new and the old,  catches my eye. 

 I turn and see another view -
  the rain has washed the stones on the edge of the lake. 

The rain cleans off the dust, heightens the colors, reveals the details

This is a very small lake, with quite dramatic cliffs.
I confess I am outside the fence and it is a twenty foot drop to water.
On slippery rocks.
Chesterton in his train station has nothing on me for adventures! 

As beautiful as the coral under the sea and as tenacious,
lichen clings to its own rocky environment.

I get closer.....
my eye no longer sees just a rock.

Instead  I see the palate of a piece of art,
 the design of elegance in the growth of lichen on rock.

Yellow lichen on a wet, black rock.

Closer and closer I peer at the pieces of art left for my eyes to discover.
A bit of bark on a black rock.

And there, in last year's grass, an ordinary pine cone.
Respendent from the rain's gentle rinse.

And close by, the reminder -
 from another brilliant pine cone, this was once  a might living tree.

Where does it go?
What might I see?

To walk in an indolent pace and really see my world,

 it's a thought.

Indolent, from Latin, in+dolent, insenstive to pain. Perhaps insensitive to the waste of time in wandering,  insensitive to the call of the bigger vistas, insensitive to the rush to arrive, do, perform, accomplish. 

But sensitive to the small, the glimpses, the peace of the slower pace.  And grateful. More and more grateful.  Even in the rain. Especially in the rain.