8:18 - Fellowship of Ailbe

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Using the overhang at the entrance of the hotel to shield us from the rain, my grandson and I are watching the skies intently. We strain to see movement or hear distant honking.

Co-creation

As I stand in the middle of a wide field, the morning sun glints off the frosted blades of grass as if the turf is strewn with diamonds. Is this what I am to notice today?

Willing to let go

When I take this shot, I don’t notice the diner light perfectly placed over the head of my friend Tim, hovering like a UFO. Or a glowing megaphone from heaven. Only later will I see it in the photo.

I like fog, when I’m not driving in it. For someone who seeks new angles on the familiar world, fog is like a Magical Mystery Tour. Looking outside, I see the ghosted landscape, grab my camera and jump in the car.

Exits and entrances

In front of me, the president of the large university my daughter will attend in the fall is speaking. But in my 8:18 moment of observation, I notice something else. An exit sign.

The unyielding tree

As I sit at my art table in my studio, I can see a tree across the street. By my calculations, I have viewed it roughly 14,000 times in the two decades we’ve lived here. And only today am I noticing its strangeness.

Enormity

The highway in front of me tonight is a dark seam through gray snow. Stars burn coldly in the black above. And I am feeling small.

Sweet stones

It is afternoon and in a German hotel, where I am working in a corporate session, they have given rocks to snack on. Sorry, I exaggerate: pebbles. In a bowl.

Love among the ruins

My phone, apparently suffering from jet lag, reminds me to notice as I’m sitting on a train at 2:18, on my way to a castle. But it’s no ordinary ruin. I expect to unearth memories.

All things bright and beautiful

I am high over Western Europe when today’s moment of observation arrives. The sun floats radiant over a Berber carpet of clouds. How can anything be so beautiful?

The task at hand

My plan had been to interrupt my breakfast with Mike at 8:18 and have us both play What Do I See? But we are deep in conversation when the time arrives. I hold the thought.

Driving with my eyes open

I am prepared for my first trip of the year. At 8:18 this morning, I am strapping into my car and heading out on a highway so familiar, I could probably narrate the drive with my eyes closed.

Too many tunics

I am thinking about journeys. I see the pile of boxes in the hall, one of the many that emerged from yesterday’s de-cluttering, and I wonder how we’ll ever transition to a smaller house, when that day comes.

Freezing up

There will be days when the object of my prayerful attention will be a subtle thing – a slight movement, an overheard word, the surprise of color. This was not one of those days.

Long shadows

I am in the middle of a long swig of now lukewarm tea from my thermos when the reminder on my phone sounds. This makes me wonder how often I’ll be standing in my kitchen at 8:18AM on any given day.

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