the sabbath of life

the nile is a powerful river and the light on it is amazing.  there are parts where it is still, so still like glass and then immediate turbulence- rapids, white water.  we are at the juncture, where still part meets the crazy.  i can hear the constant 'shshshshshchchchchch' from it's mouth, it never stops, it just keeps going. it's like being near the ocean, you can feel your smallness, and the constancy of the moving world around us.  it helps me remember my place in the world.  one piece. one small piece.

the sun set and birds and bats came out- and 41 began with lots of relaxing.

and good food and then lots of bugs. and a favorite Christmas movie, (love actually).
then today we had a delicious breakfast, with the "shschchchch" of the river in front of us and a lot of conversation.

and we talked about the sabbath of our life.  the seasons of rest and patience.
this came up because we are very different.

we have a different idea of when rest is needed and for how long.

i'm the fast twitch muscle - he's the slow.  i run hot, but can burn out quick, he's slow to start, but paces himself. this makes for a good combination, but often a long conversation.  we balance each other. but i have the easier job.  i'm the inspiration, he's the perspiration.  i usually dream it, he reigns it in.  i run headlong into something, he tells me to wait. 

we've learned over these years- that both parts are needed, and both parts are in each of us, but we default to our more comfortable zones.  mine is 'go' - his is 'wait'.  but today he talked about the importance of the sabbath- not in a 'sit-still-and-don't-do-work-because-it's-sunday' way, but the importance of having seasons in life, of rest.  collectively, he and i aren't very good at that.  culturally, americans aren't very good at that.  but i agree that it's important.  it's what i mean when i talk about my endless search for stillness.

i looked out over the nile, this immense, ancient river who touches 10 african countries as she flows north. 

this river who gave life to early people with her fertile banks, who is used today for energy and food, and bathing and washing, and sports and fun, and pure beauty.

i thought about the loud rushing rapids and the soft, glass-like stillness and how their contrast was moving and real and necessary.

this year, i want to be like this river.  i want to have seasons of quiet rest and stillness, followed by crazy churning motion.  and then retreat into the seasons of rest again, the seasons of sabbath.