I’ve come to see lately that my sense of well- being and security, my spiritual life, my meaningful life is like a well that runs deep in the center of me. And life, modern life, is constantly draining the well. If I get angry, restless, fearful or confused, then I have learned that I need to replenish the well, to step off the path and fill it up again. There are so many things that drain the well, and I suppose it is different for me.

One is the news, which I rarely watch. Another is the endless stream of messages, questions, notifications, likes that pour endlessly into my computer, my Ipad, my Iphone, all beeping and bonging and buzzing throughout the day. The alarms and alerts and confirmations that come from banks and credit card companies and businesses, all pretending to make my life easier when they continuously complicate it for their own convenience.  You have made a payment, a payment is due, there is a flood alert, it is over, Jane likes your photo, Peter shared your post, Emily commented on your comment to George, Jon, did you like the packaging on your bag of biscuits? Every day there a few messages from the angry and the disturbed, from platoons of advice givers, the quick messages so easy to send on the Internet, so hard to think about. There are the alarms, payment alerts, shared and unwanted stories of tragedies, hateful politicians, endless arguments from the left and the right,  rapes and murders and abductions, bombings and accidents, the people seeking to make connections that can’t really come to be, the endless stream of weather alerts, health warnings, safety concerns.

Lord, I pray for all the people struggling under this weight, how can they pause to find their center, to ground themselves, when the world is poured into our head every minute, and the boundaries of life have all vanished? Our personal space is violated every minute of every day, often with our compliance, sometimes not. We have no space. And I pray for me, with all of my tools, my therapists, my counselors, it is still hard for me, every day.

The world does not accept my choices, if I don’t want the news, they push it to me. It drains the well. It was once fairly simple to escape these things – turn off the radio, put the paper down, leave the TV off. It is not so easy now, I am sorry for the young, many have never known peace or peace of mind.

I am always working to fill the well up, because when the well drains, there is darkness, impatience, anger and fear, that’s how I know to stop and do a different kind of work, a spiritual work. Maria has a strong instinct about this, when she feels the need, she goes to massage, takes a yoga class, visits the donkeys, makes a beautiful quilt. She has an internal alarm about her well, although she has never called it that, and I am learning to listen to my alarm as well.

I think in worlds past, people replenished themselves spiritually on Sundays, when religion guided and comforted them rather than divided them, or perhaps at dances or visits to friends. But that isn’t enough for me, not in our world. I fill up the well in these ways:

– I become alone. I turn things off.

– I meditate.

– I walk the dogs.

– I find silence. So I can think.

– I visit the animals with Maria, or I sit down and talk with her.

– I listen to music, mostly Gregorian Chants, maybe Van Morrison, Kanye West.

– I go for a walk by myself.

– Sometimes, I do Tai Chi.

– I take my camera and look for a beautiful photo.

– I write on my blog, my voice, the expression of who I was, am and want to be.

– I go to lunch a friend, a healthy person, someone who is glad to see me, who is honest and open.

– I read a book, a novel mostly.

– I herd the sheep with Red, take them to pasture, sit with them while they graze.

– I write a poem. Light a candle. Sit in a chair and close my eyes.

– I go to the barn and kiss Simon on the nose. I talk to him. He listens to me,

his beautiful soulful eyes wide and brown.

– I express my gratitude for the many wonderful things in my life.

– I kiss my wife and hold her close to me, or walk with her hand in hand.

Every day, I think I need to fill the well, perhaps you do too. I know right away when it is empty.

Because then, I am the person I don’t want to be. When the well is full, I am never angry, never in panic, never

in lament about my life.

Every day I ask myself, “Is there water in the well? Do I have to fill it up again?”