Turning Away

"The world goes on as it must," says the poet Mary Oliver in her poem Today.   And so it must.  But must I? 

Long walks at my fall retreat at Subiaco included stops at various benches set up along the wooded paths.  One stopping point overlooked a bog, and not far behind the bog was the almighty Interstate 94 with its constant whir of traffic.

Being close to a freeway may not seem like much of a retreat.  But I was content.  It actually felt quite "Benedictine" to me.  The Rule of St. Benedict is filled with references to living holy as you are, where you are.  Holiness, goodness, and all of the other "small virtues" are not just found in the church, on retreat, or when you are away.  Benedictine rule emphasizes the importance of practicing these works at all times, wherever you are:  at work, at home, in the community, etc.  So to me, the freeway in the distance was as it should be:  I was apart from the world but in the world.

That freeway and its constant motion captured me for some time.  I found it fascinating to see how the traffic never ended.  I kept waiting for a pause in the vehicles coming into my view.  But no pause ever came. 

I think that my attraction to the freeway was connected to how I was feeling about my life that weekend.  Part of my life is a non-stop freeway of things to do, places to go, lists to write, and schedules to keep.  Surely that was part of what brought me to Subiaco in the first place. 

But how does one stop the freeway?  Cars, trucks, vans? They just keep coming.  Soccer ends, and skiing begins.  One work project winds up and another hustles in to take its place.  A graceful exit from one volunteer activity is quietly replaced with another.  Caught up in one arena in life, then suddenly behind in another. 

The freeway would not stop.  Nor can the pace of life. 

I rose up from the bench and turned back to the woods.  I turned away.

Turning away was my way to stop the freeway.  I wasn't running away, or turning my back, or leaving that bench in contempt.  I simply bid farewell to the freeway for a bit - accepting its constancy but choosing to step away. 

I am finding small ways to turn away in my everyday life, and moments of peace often follow.  Sometimes it means leaving the phone in the drawer when I head to a meeting.  Sometimes it means rearranging schedules to be home for dinner.  Sometimes it means a quick hug to one of the kids for no good reason at all. 

The world goes on as it must.  But must I?  Must you?