The Unhurried Nature of Eternity
From my Journal - July 24, 2023
It’s 7:15am on the Monday after the Harley120th Anniversary, and we are camping in our No Boundaries camper (aka No Bo) at a hidden gem in Southeastern Wisconsin: Cliffside Park, just south of Milwaukee. Most of the Harley riders who camped here for the 120th have rumbled on. Campsites once filled with boxy RVs, Fat Boys and Ultra Glides, and Harley camaraderie lie empty.
Morning routines of those of us who remain are in play as I write. A sleepy camper shuffles to the shower, towel slung over her shoulder and hair in disarray. A mourning dove flits from tree limb to ground and back to the limb, its activity hidden behind a cluster of maple leaves. A woman keeps pace with her eager dog as they round a curve in the campground’s winding roads.
This ebb and flow of life in a campground whispers something to my soul. What is it? That we must witness life just as much as we live it? That we must be intentional about reducing the volume of our own thoughts in order to hear life?
Leslie D. Weatherhead, author of the classic devotional, A Private House of Prayer, observed that sound can interpret silence, like a far-off fog horn interprets the silence of a dawn shrouded in mist. He wrote, “How often the hour of the soul’s exaltation is an hour of silence!” An hour of my own silence, at the picnic table outside our No Boundaries camper - shocking! No ruminating. No planning. Those usual morning thought-cycles recede, and the unhurried nature of eternity emerges.
French philosopher Blaise Pascal observed, “All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” Perhaps some of humanity’s crazed technology urgent urgencies could be tamed with a campfire. Perhaps this is why gazing into the flickering flames and glowing embers of a campfire is appealing to so many campers. The warmth and light of the logs as they burn nurture the soul’s desire to just be. Nobody minds when the conversation fades away and all that remains is sitting quietly, alone with one’s thoughts.
Fast forward to yesterday: During a webinar yesterday, a presenter stated, “AI won’t take your job, but someone who knows AI better just might.” It’s the type of statement that can elicit a crazed urgent-urgency to go all-in with GenAI, or other artificial intelligence, before steady preparation has concluded. I’d love to plunk down in front of a flickering campfire every time the AI urgent-urgency attacks my gut. But I can’t, so I do the next best thing: detach from technology, walk in nature, gaze at a far horizon, and just be. It’s from the state of just being that a reasonable assessment of my next steps can occur.
Effective Continuous Improvement begins with clarity on workflows, procedures, and training plans.
This blog was written and edited by a human!
© 2024 Lori K. Barbeau