A vacation every day

This play-cation we’re on brings up a couple thoughts.

The first is this:

The genius of the Jews! I’ll have to check with a historian, but it’s my feeling that Jews invented the weekend. I may be parroting a hundred thousand other thinkers here — that the Jews came up with this culturally significant idea of the Sabbath, the day of rest, every week without fail. It is this cessation of work life that keeps us sane. And grounded. And inventive. And renewed.

The second is this:

I was able to go three years without a vacation under the most awful business conditions one can endure short of bankruptcy without cracking.


Let’s round up all the usual suspects:

Meditation, often.

Prayer, in urgency, in thankfulness, in support of others, in support of myself and my family and my business and my talents. Prayer especially for my growth, to grow me to be able to navigate this collapse.

Contemplation, silence, communion in nature, communion with self opening to Infinite Spirit . . . frequently.

In essence, quietude of the most significant order — repeatedly — when reeling from the financial blows to our business and our lives, when ecstatic we’d  made payroll on any given week, when in awe of the perfection, when weary of the journey, when overwhelmed by the (seeming) insurmountables . . . . whenever I could.

I journaled, I affirmed, I declared aloud, I visualized . . . I wrote out my heart’s desire . . . I loved more than my small heart thought itself capable . . . .

I was uber-Muslim in my devotions, more than five times a day. I was supra-Catholic in my practice, invoking Spirit into my every action a la Brother Lawrence . . . .

You know what that’s like? A vacation every day. When you connect every day, often, whenever you can, paradise finds you . . . wherever you’re at.

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