Sometimes I snore

I decided to trike my way to our meeting yesterday. It was a gorgeous morning and ever since Bike the Drive, I pretty much feel like I can take some physical challenges on. The trip was an hour long to Portage Park. I had my coffee and led the Spiritual Journeys portion of the day with a meditation on summer, asking us to think about midyear accomplishments and the ways in which we would take care of ourselves during this season. 

Our conversation meandered in the way that I always appreciate. The spirit, I am convinced, is leading the way in spite of me. I wasn’t sure I had presented my thoughts well. I started them off with a poem by Derek Walcott, “A Lesson on a Sunday,” which may not have been an expected inspirational piece for the occasion. Nevertheless, it worked. It works the way it always does. 

Our afternoon formation was dedicated to watching Ilia Delio’s remarks at the Q conference. I was starting to feel the aches and pains on my back. I thought lying on the floor would calm it down. And it did. A little too much.

I started fighting the weight of my eyelids and the heaviness of my breathing. I was concentrating on repeating the key phrases of her talk that said something meaningful to me. Then I felt myself snoring, unable to move from the blissful position of rest I had managed to achieve. Active contemplatives. Contemplative actives. Active. Action. Contemplation. ZZZzzzzzZZZ…

I have sleep apnea. So my snores are a thing of wonder. My wellspring confreres somehow managed to listen to Ilia Delio and discuss and disagree and discuss, ignoring my snores. They are so kind. B said she figured I had an hour to get back home so better get all the rest I could. I protested saying I had heard some of it. D said, SURE, did you see the dog jumping over you back and forth. AWWWW, PD!!!

Now, I have to get my own copy of the Q conference and watch it with my eyes open.

 

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