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📖 Diary Entry — When Silence Feeds the Frame
Sergio arrived around 10:30 this morning bearing what can best be described as a humble, foil-covered tray of comfort — beef stew, mashed potatoes, and green peas — the kind of meal that conjures the memory of Dinty Moore. Simple. Toothsome. Familiar. It will be my dinner.
I saw Terry, the maintenance man, and thanked him for his work on the bathroom faucet. He’s a man of six stalks of silver hair and a mustache to match, standing about 6’1” with a presence that is gentle but capable. For months the faucet had been slow to yield hot water. Now it flows beautifully — and immediately. A quiet but dignified victory.
The early afternoon was given over to meaningful creation. I composed a birthday tribute for Monica Yasmeen Maajid-Bey, a woman of generosity and culinary grace. She hails from the British Isles but seems to cook with the spirit of the world in her hands. I wrote her a poem — She Feeds the World — and designed an original piece of art to accompany it: her at the stove, poised in purpose. The piece is now live at SydnorBooks.com.
I also reviewed Poet in Motion, a visual self-portrait of sorts — a rendering of myself in dance, surrounded by floating musical notations. The piece has presence. It breathes. After these creative sessions, the body called for movement. I listened.
It had been nearly a week since my last pool session. Today, I returned and completed 38 minutes of water work: bounding, jogging in place, lateral shuffles, high steps. The temperature held around 80°F — warm enough for exertion to feel restorative, not oppressive. Matthew Crawford stopped by and thanked me for the poem I had sent in celebration of his newborn son. He said his wife loved it. That meant more than he knew.
The pool technician came by during my session to add chemicals to the pool and jacuzzi. Nearby, a young woman lounged across the sun-warmed deck. After completing my routine, I eased into the jacuzzi and soaked for twenty minutes while listening to a lecture on Michelangelo. There is something appropriate about contemplating the chisel while immersed in warmth.
Fortune favored me. I exited the pool just before a crew began sealing off the concrete deck for maintenance. A few more minutes and I would’ve missed my chance entirely. Back inside, I wasn’t particularly hungry, but I decided to end my 19-hour, 10-minute fast with a warm cup of beef broth. Nourishment in its most essential form.
Before the broth, I performed 16 minutes of abdominal training with the Ab Carver, along with push-ups and mild yoga stretches. My form has improved — no pressure on the back, focus squarely on the core. The results are evident: a pronounced six-pack, even at rest. Not showmanship — but testament.
A faint ache in the lower back followed. Likely the result of combined aquatic and abdominal exertion. I took two acetaminophen with caffeine — effective, practical. I also made a note to purchase more beef broth during tomorrow’s planned trip to Walmart.
Some of the afternoon was devoted to editing Questions of Value. The manuscript demands more than revision — it requires reshaping, refinement, care. I intend to complete this round by Monday and send it to Steve Harrison at KDP for review.
I had planned to drive to Walmart today but, upon reaching the car, the body asked for pause. I turned around, returned to the apartment, and took a short nap — twenty minutes of soft retreat. I awakened refreshed, lightened, ready for the evening.
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🪶 Poetic Interlude — After the Work, Stillness
The pot still simmers though the fire is gone,
and breath, once labored, flows soft and long.
The body bends where the spirit sings,
in pools, in poems, in quiet things.
📖 Philosophical Quotation
Simone Weil — French philosopher and mystic, whose work bridged theology, ethics, and labor, once wrote:
“Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.” 📖
🔎 Commentary
To truly attend — without rush, without expectation — is to extend presence in its highest form. Weil believed attention was not a passive state but a moral act. Today I practiced that kind of attention: to Sergio’s offering, to Monica’s mission, to Michelangelo’s burden, to my own breath as it moved through the water. This kind of stillness — without performance, without noise — is where depth begins. We are most generous not when we give things, but when we withhold distraction.
❓ Questions of Value
❓ What part of your day called for full attention — and did you answer with presence or habit?
❓ Can a single act of silence be as generous as a thousand words?
❓ When did your body say no today — and did you listen?
🌾 Reflections of Gratitude
I am grateful for Sergio’s quiet kindness.
For a faucet that now sings with heat.
For Monica’s generosity, alive in both gesture and meal.
For the rhythm of the water, and the stillness of the soak.
For Michelangelo’s struggle, and Matthew’s simple thanks.
For the nap that met the moment.
For the quiet return of equilibrium.
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🔄 Repetition Anchor
“The body knows before the mind consents.”
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🎨 Visual Prompt
Stillness Between Movements
— An abstract rendering of bodily discipline, spiritual breath, and the hush between action and restoration. A swirl of water, muscle tone, floating text fragments, and a flickering sense of poise.
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