Silent notes

The deep sense of release when I unbuckled my watch, getting off the clock bound to my wrist and diving into a more timeless existence. I'd just finished celebrating the sacrament of reconciliation with my confessor, so the next time I needed to be anywhere was 11 :45 the next morning (for Mass, lunch and and appointment with Patient Spiritual Director). Absolution and the temporary respite from the tyrant of the clock, commingled relief.

The almost riotous outbreak of spring. The grass had a lively spring, the birds were warbling cheerfully, the sun was warm on my back as I walked down the hill toward the cemetery. Hard to imagine I would wake in a day or two to a car dusted in snow.

Sinking deeply into writing a reflection on the Liturgy of the Hours, tucked into a corner of the Library, so silent I could hear the pen scratch on the paper. Prayer soaked work.