Sometimes I’d get mad because things didn’t work out well, I’d spoil a flapjack, or slip in the snowfield while getting water, or one time my shovel went sailing down into the gorge, and I’d be so mad I’d want to bite the mountaintops and would come in the shack and kick the cupboard and hurt my toe.
But let the mind beware, that though the flesh be bugged, the circumstances of existence are pretty glorious. ~Jack Kerouac from The Dharma Bums
Little things can bug us. In fact, like a thistle covered with aphids which entices ants, we can be bugged on top of bugged.
Yet we still bloom. We are on notice there is joy to be found. What solace is this?
Though bugs exult in irritating us, flaunting our flawed flesh, it is a reminder of our vulnerability during our short stay on this good earth, bugs and all.
The rest is all glorious, right down to the thirsty roots that hold us fast.
A writer must reflect and interpret his society, his world;
he must also provide inspiration and guidance and challenge.
Much writing today strikes me as deprecating, destructive, and angry.
There are good reasons for anger, and I have nothing against anger.
But I think some writers have lost their sense of proportion,
their sense of humor, and their sense of appreciation.
I am often mad, but I would hate to be nothing but mad:
and I think I would lose what little value I may have as a writer
if I were to refuse, as a matter of principle,
to accept the warming rays of the sun,
and to report them, whenever,
and if ever, they happen to strike me. ~E.B. White (on writing)
It becomes tiresome always feeling angry about what it is happening in the world,
to read and write nothing but words of frustration,
to rail against the meanness that surrounds us,
to push back the bully and seek a balance of perspective and insight.
When I need to feel something other than mad,
I walk as far as I can go,
look up, revel in the light and bask in its warmth.
I seek to accept what the sun has to offer
and tell about it
and my anger drains away,
flushed down a pipe
never to be seen again.
I heard a Fly buzz – when I died – The Stillness in the Room Was like the Stillness in the Air – Between the Heaves of Storm –….
There is nothing more humbling than an unwanted fly buzzing in the room. No matter whether we live in a slum or a castle, a fly finds its way to us, just because it can. And we must learn to coexist with what we can’t control.
When I’m feeling bugged, which happens all too often these days, the buzzing may overwhelm my stillness but it cannot overwhelm me. I will put down the swatter and simply listen to the coming of the heaving storm.
My poems start the way an oyster does, with an aggravation… ~Kay Ryan, winner of the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry, 2010
If I can remember how often
inspiration starts with irritation~
a bit of sandy grit that hurts and aggravates
becomes something beautiful
if I surround it,
build on it,
smooth it to a shine
and lose myself inside.
A dozen times a day
I can choose to be angry
or be grateful
for nagging aggravations that
lead me beyond mere comfort seeking,
to transcend the mundane
and by grace,
touch the heavenly.
…God’s attention is indeed fixed on the little things. But this is not because God is a great cosmic cop, eager to catch us in minor transgressions, but simply because God loves us–loves us so much that the divine presence is revealed even in the meaningless workings of daily life. It is in the ordinary, the here-and-now, that God asks us to recognize that the creation is indeed refreshed like dew-laden grass that is “renewed in the morning” or to put it in more personal and also theological terms, “our inner nature is being renewed everyday”. ~Kathleen Norris
It is easy to be ground to a pulp by the little things: waiting in line too long, an insistent alarm clock, a mouse (or more) in the house, a third head cold in less than a year. The small things tend to add up to irritable annoyance and total inability to feel gratitude.
God is in the details, from the dew drop to tear drop and even to nose snot. It is tempting instead to look past His ubiquitous presence in all things, to seek only the elegant grandeur of creation. It isn’t all elegance from our limited perspective, but still, it is worthy of His divine attention.
The time has come to be refreshed and renewed in our inner being.
His care is revealed in the tiniest ways.
He has my attention.