If it were June, we would asking, “What is so rare as a day in June?” But instead, we are raving about the rarity of this last day in May. I feel hopeful as I look out of my front door and take in the sun, a little breeze, and the blue sky. I feel hopeful as I look across to the library, which tomorrow will begin preparations to open--first checking in books, next curbside pickup, then….?
These personal harbingers of hope are in deep contrast to what’s going on outside my little bubble. How do I dare write about silence, solitude, and simplicity when so many are right now directly effected by the pandemic and racial violence? But dare I must. To continue I have to assume that readers of this blog are longing for silence, solitude, and simplicity and needing affirmation that it is okay to seek it out. I say, “Yes, it is okay!” We human beings require time alone so we can then go out and connect with others to help make the world a more loving place. We require time alone so we can stay hopeful.
These personal harbingers of hope are in deep contrast to what’s going on outside my little bubble. How do I dare write about silence, solitude, and simplicity when so many are right now directly effected by the pandemic and racial violence? But dare I must. To continue I have to assume that readers of this blog are longing for silence, solitude, and simplicity and needing affirmation that it is okay to seek it out. I say, “Yes, it is okay!” We human beings require time alone so we can then go out and connect with others to help make the world a more loving place. We require time alone so we can stay hopeful.
