“The best cure for the body is a quiet mind.”
– Napoleon Bonaparte (1769-1821)
Saturday night, I flew the red-eye from Honolulu to Dallas on my way back to Austin. I’m an aisle-seat-kind-of-guy, but I ended up on the window Saturday night, so I had ample opportunity to cast my eyes out and down over the Pacific.
Know what I saw? Nothing.
There are about five hours where you look down and you see nothing.
It’s eerie. It’s odd. It’s rare.
How rare are the times there are no artificial lights in sight? No distant glow from the town or city down the road, no cars, no neon, no street lamps, no glow from the alarm clock or the battery indicator on the smoke detector.
Dark. Deep. Quiet.
It’s thought provoking, in a “blank canvas” sort of way.
Our day-to-day lives don’t leave much time for blank canvas moments. Our day-to-day lives have little beams of distraction shining in from all angles, almost all the time.
What if we took time more often to find someplace where the canvas was blank, where it was completely quiet and where our thoughts could run deep? Would we get in closer touch with what we felt? With those we love most and what they feel? With God? With what drives us, scares us, pleases us and with what makes a difference?
Dark. Deep. Quiet. Here’s hoping it doesn’t take an 8-hour, overnight airplane ride to find it.
Casey says
Beautifully said!