John Wiercioch
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Reflections on the Art of Living

Contagious

10/31/2021

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It had been a long week. Parts of me were sore — still getting used to working again after a period of necessary convalescence. I was feeling a bit worn on the short drive to my job. As I stopped for a red light, I realized a friend with whom I’d been working all week was driving the car next to mine. His kind mom, also a friend, was in the passenger seat. She and her husband had moved to the eastern shore after retiring a few years ago, so seeing her surprised me. We waved and dropped windows. 

“We we’re just talking about you,” he said. “Where’re you headed?” I asked. “A funeral out of town for a friend.” I felt embarrassed, as he’d told me the day before, but wrapped up in my aches, I’d already forgotten. I wished them a safe trip and couldn’t help but think how much more potent funerals must feel for her, as she was a cancer survivor. As quickly I recalled how, although we were not close friends when she used to live here, she’d out of the blue written me to generously offer accommodations in their new home if I ever wanted to get away to the peace of their near-ocean sanctuary. 

I continued toward the art museum where I was working. At the next light a raggedly-clothed pedestrian was attempting to cross before the light changed. As she did, another car turned into her path, oblivious of her. Fortunately the walker was alert and stepped back. As the light changed, the car facing me stopped and rather than rush to work, waited for the pedestrian’s passage. I followed suit. The woman hurried across and waved a sincere thank you. 

A second car had been behind the first considerate driver. I now waited for them to pass so I could turn left, instead, the kindness seemed catchy, and they waved me through. I gestured thanks, and made a mental note of the contagious nature of simple kindnesses that aren’t  looking for payback. 

As I drove the last few blocks into the heart of downtown a light rain began to fall. Slowing as I rolled up to the market building crosswalk, I caught sight of a burly, bearded man walking toward me. Almost hidden by his girth was a two foot tall toddler in a pink hooded slicker, wearing bright yellow rubber boots. He was delicately but firmly holding her hand, which seemed barely the size of his thumb. I stopped and motioned him to cross. He nodded a smile that was the radiant smile of a patient yet proud poppa with a child who has only recently learned to walk. As they slowly made their way to the market stalls on the opposite side, I noticed the driver of the stopped car facing me was beaming as well. 

All these exchanges added at most two minutes to my little ten minute commute. Yet my petty aches had vanished, my focus was entirely re-oriented, and suddenly I was more aware of the light glowing everywhere in my small part of the world.
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Surf’s Up

10/31/2021

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Harvesting in the Quiet

10/6/2021

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We’re instinctively attracted to the dramatic. Flashes of excitement command our attention. A thunderbolt, fireworks, a human tragedy! We’re pulled together out of collective concern. Our media and entertainment generally exploit this innate tendency. 

In a powerful but different way, the Grand Canyon, a new born, a heartfelt song, or a gorgeous sunset can all sweep us together in wordless awe. I find it more interesting to cultivate ways toward this type of connection. Some traditions use the rubric of turning inward and focusing on one’s breathing, acknowledging the immediate sensations of one’s body; or noticing one’s thoughts or emotions without engaging in them. I’ve always been a fan of folks doing whatever works for them to find their center if it causes no harm to others.

Being a borderline introvert, it comes easy for me to softly engage with the world. Our cultural and intellectual awareness is primarily visual. It can reinforce our habits and sometimes, our addictions and prejudices. Visual beauty captivates me, but from early on, I wondered what makes me think something is beautiful? So I was also drawn to the less showy, the unrecognized drama. Heated societal debate may go on about which shock topic is more special or deserves our priority. Often I’d rather explore the rich wonders that lie “in plain sight,” humbly awaiting my discovery beyond the boisterous, exuberant melodramas.

There are profound wordless insights within exchanges in the quiet. Only when I silence the clamor of my worldly concerns, do I create space to receive them. Such “listening” requires a certain unforced awareness. It’s not intellectualized, nor wholly sensory, but I find the path through the senses offers me a foothold and a springboard. It’s not limited to places nor things, sometimes people evoke this mysterious merging. 

Some of the most engaging and enriching people in my life have been quiet and unpretentious. Whenever it occurs, the bonding is less a process of building and more about disclosing what already is. If I can set aside self-centered urgency, be patient and fully present, the genuine connection has room to be revealed.  All sharing is enhanced if not rushed; as our experience deepens, it becomes more timeless. Whether with our own breath with the atmosphere, our awareness with a humble flower bud, or our essence with another being of any form, for me this beautiful communion of presence is the joyful purpose of life.
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    ​John's Blog

    Writing offers an opportunity to clarify my thoughts and feelings. Often these relate to my art and may offer insights about my work. I learn from engaging with others and welcome comments. 

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