Lost Files and Memory

I have spent an hour looking for a file that I know is on my desktop, that reluctant dinosaur of a machine that can't meet a single request without complaint. I am typing on my zippy, full-of-zest little netbook while the beast continues to search the text of every file and folder in its memory banks. The sheer effort I am expending trying to be all Zen about this could bring on an aneurysm.

The difficulty of retrieving this very important set of information makes me reflect on my own mind and heart and memory. I have learned deep lessons in this life, lessons that can only be learned by comforting a discontented little one in the dead of yet another sleepless night; lessons that can only be taught by silence and falling leaves and rushing streams and the Holy Spirit speaking together; lessons that can only be learned by facing up to the pain I've inflicted on someone I love who has the courage to show me the wound. To name a few.

But for most of the minutes of my day, most of my resources are devoted to running my operating system and maybe occasionally dipping into the temporary storage—to use a wildly inappropriate computer metaphor. Those deep lessons are stored in some forgotten folder on my hard drive and the busier I am with the business of just running the system, the less often the really important stuff—the content—makes it to the desktop (so to speak).

I suspect the solution has something to do with slowing down and simplifying. The less I have going on, the more time and energy I have available for the important things. Those deep lessons are less likely to get buried in a frenzy of activity. The search for balance has become the soundtrack to my thoughts lately, as you may have noticed, and it is still elusive—but whether or not I get it exactly right, I want to get closer to honouring the life I've lived and the people I love and the lessons I've learned by remembering them well. May we all come nearer to the kind of stillness and simplicity and silence that belongs to a more human pace of life.