Growing up–and then driving–in Southern California brought its stresses, especially the iconic So Cal freeway system with its clogged arteries of frustrated cars. When approaching those giant concrete interchanges, the synapses must fire at an even faster rate as one considers, “Do I really want to go east? Why are there so many black skid marks on the side of that concrete bridge soaring into the clouds? How earthquake-safe are these things anyway?”
This week, one of Scott Cairns’ poems, “Sacred Time,” has proven to be a spiritual touchstone for me. He does not speak of freeways but of the “sprawl and velocity” of our minds. I know my mind, anyway, whether in California or Illinois, constantly swerves on and off the ramps of my daily decisions and preoccupations with little thought of the God who keeps this whole mess together–and speaks through it all. I’m thankful for poets who can speak so clearly of our need to slow and abide. Enjoy the poem.
Sacred Time
Not time at all, really, but space
like you don’t know, and knowledge there,
in general, finally admits
how meager a consolation
it has been all along. Once
you grow accustomed to the sprawl
and velocity your own mind
articulates (and that queasy
rocking tapers to a hum) you might
have pause to entertain a sense
of presence reaching suddenly,
and now, and deeply, ever so.
Tania Runyan: Writings on Poetry & Faith 