Crossing Another River

I just want to rush to the finish line.  I want to clean the windows in my bedroom, the inside of my refrigerator, the washer, the floors.  I want to have the next month perfectly scheduled, the bus trips, the closing of my accounts, the apartment check, the buying of furniture, and the arrival in the next and the next bed.  I just want to push through it all.  

But these few days require something different.  They require that I sit and enjoy the friends around me, that I eat wonderful food with others, that I enjoy playing this opera over and over again because it is at least three hours that I can be making music in the midst of doing many other non-musical things.  It is so wonderful to find oneself comfortably in the arms of inconvenience.  What a blessing inconvenience can be.

I biked home after dark and waited for a line of cars to cross the tracks parallel to me.  Waiting to cross the road upon which they drove.  And an inconvenience became an opportunity to look into all these lonely cars, tired cars, happy cars, all these little bubbles, with one or two people, each in their own little pocket of life, looking ahead, somewhere in some thought, listening to something, feeling something.  What a blessing inconvenience can be.