The Mist
The mist misted
inches above
the spring-fed stream.
It could be
103° but that spot
beneath the tall pines
and the wild kudzu
possesses a constant cool.
I dip my hands.
I splash my face.
O to radiate goodness.
O to carry passion
in your eyes.
O to see your people
and know
that you open the door
to the significance
of right now.Journal with me.
Who do you know who seems to carry a constant, uncanny aliveness? What do you think makes them this way? Could you permit yourself to have that level of vitality? What stands in your way?
It was Mort. I never quite understood what Mort talked to me about. He was always waxing eloquent and devotional. Things far out of reach for me at that time—and still, probably.
But I remember once standing with him after he wanted to pray with me. It was the kind of prayer that felt like being driven to the hospital after an injury; it wasn’t just words, it was action.
I remember nothing of what he prayed for specifically; it was honestly weird and uncomfortable. Then, after “Amen,” I looked at him, and he had this fire in his eyes.
I thought to myself: “Bartender, I’ll have what he’s having!”
Like the mist hovering above the stream I drive past every day, Mort had an unmistakable radiance. He wasn’t someone who talked about prayer; he was someone who prayed. He knew Jesus.
I knew in that moment how precious a gift it is to embody a deep alertness, and I’ve been on the hunt since.
People have said that Howard Thurman would give this advice to people who sought his counsel: “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask, what makes you come alive. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”
What makes me come alive? Why don’t I create more space for that in my days? Why does pursuing that seem so risky?
I think there is a true version of you and me that has this unmistakable aliveness—it’s just buried somewhere, waiting to be dug up again. Maybe it’s been hidden for a long, long time.
Would it be possible to resurface again?
I keep coming across stories of Jesus being close to, or followed by, people who, let’s say, weren’t anyone’s role models. But the example of “good” religion was undesirable, so they chose a different life entirely. But then, Jesus comes and sits at their tables, and there they encounter a rabbi who is life and goodness distilled. We can begin postulating why this is, or we could just follow the lead. Jesus is the encapsulation of the world’s deepest longings. Let’s get swept away by the contagiousness of Christ’s single-heartedness.
Perhaps the only way to become this is through osmosis. That person you are writing about—why not reach out? Now and then, what we need more than anything is to dip our hands in the coolness of pure water and splash our faces to remind ourselves that right now we are living. And whatever it is that might make you more alive today, go and pursue it on purpose because whether you like it or not, you change the world. You can either do it with gusto or add to the meh.
How might you come alive today? What would restore your sense of vibrancy?
Get specific. How? When? Where? With whom?