Leanback. One word, two syllables, eight letters, encasing unfolding meaning, literally and figuratively—lean-back as position as well as ongoing burden-easing processes, as paradoxical as it sounds.
Leanback summarized the crux of my holy leisure, which is baked into mental sanity and emotional hygiene, inseparable from clear-eyed, uncluttered headspace—of being in my own character, calling a spade a spade, keeping my feet on the ground, and living out of my gift right here and now.
Many things attempt to draw my attention that causes leaning in—from reaching my phone every out of ingrained habit, hunched towards internet surfing, constantly being checked in through social media—to stretch every minute and tirelessly on the run, to plan, to exert, to prove, to compare, to be on autopilot, to worry aloud, to have more than enough on my plate…
Every now and then, the peculiar notion of leanback flows into the corner of my consciousness, which is roughly mingled with the renewed self that is yet to be unpacked, even though, at first, it came across as just a verb—ergonomy-wise, of course. It is a salient instinct through the prism of envisioning (the world of possibilities). But there is also much to ponder, underpinning nuanced ways far beyond the current definición as I was led to get up on the balcony and stand on the foundation of truth…
◤Holy Leisure – Doing nothing, for the sake of being in the presence of God’s Sake◢
⇲reading ⇲resting ⇲listening ⇲praying ⇲writing ⇲savoring ⇲curating ⇲walking ⇲just existing
To some degree, I have not well-articulated my untold experience before and after my commitment to God’s loving will. What I had gone through had only made sense in God’s way from a rearview mirror. The oblivious aggravation is released, it no longer has power or influence over me; I’m free indeed. Even though there are still so many things that want to put me in bondage from the tape of a world, Jesus came to set me free from them all—I am no longer bound to the collaged existential angst without noticing the substitution. In this process of reinvention, I’m unfazed by taking the long way home (to the promised land). As a slow starter in Christ, my sense of renewed freedom exudes like tiny ripples of hope — unchained — as I tap into knowing why woven the fabric of my innermost being is something I don’t need to be old to be right, of who I actually am/was, or what is actually remaining true.
I will not be tiptoeing here
to grasp the impact and revisit
somewhat disconcerting experiences
that come with immense healing my way
through to the other side.
I will not be a passive onlooker
who sits back and observes.
I see a call to slow down
lean back as a way out and forward as
resting beside quiet waters.
This is an unfinished finishing work
coauthoring the first leg of my restoration.
The anomalous dappled shade of attachment
eddied around the river basin of my rib cage
densely, further down, in my own soul.
Photos by Rose, Medford, Massachusetts, 2019
Phonography by Rose feat. Porter Square Books, Cambridge, Massachusetts, December 2018