If the word ‘abeyance’ means temporary inactivity, as one dictionary says, then I’m a believer in abeyance. I’d like to hold everything in abeyance about once every hour – just breathing in and out for a few minutes and letting the planet spin where it will without me moving a muscle or thinking a thought. On our bike ride this morning, we stopped at this old cemetery for a break, and, as I looked at these stones,

it struck me with almost a sense of envy that they are always in abeyance. They simply sit in silence where they have for probably several hundred years, doing nothing but being proper gravestones. They’re not restless, not checking off a list, not flying from one activity to the next. No, they seemed to be holding restlessness and frenzy in abeyance. The world and my life seemed quite peaceful as I watched those stones. In fact, I’ve decided to imitate them for the next few minutes. I’m holding this writing in abeyance. Back later . . . maybe!   

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He finds it hard to sit still,

in silence and peace,

so sometimes he practices.

He goes outside and sits

beside stones that have sat

in stillness for years and years,

or beside a tree

that understands staying power

and remains right there.

He sits and sees the world

that stays where it is —

grass that silently remains,

air that seems in no hurry,

the sky that’s simply the sky

day after day.

He sits and uncomplainingly holds

his life in his hands,

while life holds him,

with love and reliability,

right where he is.

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Our fridge magnetic poem for today …

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