Tepid Coffee Dregs On the Waterfront...

I took the last few barely drinkable drops of the coffee I'd been nursing since roughly 9 a.m. outside a few moments ago. I also took my Bible and read a few chapters in Paul's short epistle to the Philippians. I was struck by the verse that says "Whatever happens, conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ." "Whatever happens" is the first line of a Galway Kinnel poem called, simply, "Prayer."

I have lost the ability to say, and mean "whatever happens." I no longer feel, categorically, that "whatever happens," I can press forward. I have lost the singularity of vision needed to commit to anything outside of myself. It should not be the case that my youth was characterized by the desire to serve, and by involvement in the Church, whereas my later life... my growing up time is consumed with fretting and cocktails.

It is hard to obsess needlessly over piddly stuff when you are caught up in a revolution. Like Charlie Brown, I need involvement to get me out of my rut of morbid self-absorption.