Trash collects in known places — at the base of walls that barrier its movements and in corners that corral it. Unwanted stuff — dirt, litter, grime, dead leaves, dust, cat hair and lost insect parts — are commonly harbored underneath raised furniture, hidden in dark nooks under car seats, smothered below couch cushions and sanctuaried in small crannies and crevices throughout the earth.
This morning I swept the sidewalk along the east side my house. It always needs sweeping. Dead leaves congregate there, and dirt and bits of paper hold daily convocations there too. That side of my house is a trash convention.
Live anywhere long enough and in the same body for any length of time and you’ll know where to find rogue detritus — under the fingernails and hidden in the epidermal creases of all your lesser and minor planetoids, discrete entities and bio-creaveses.
And what about that which is not that? Where might one find something that doesn’t begged to be cleaned up, something that is fresh and new and bright-eyed and full of verve and laced with the gold vein of future hope and direction.
Where might one find wisdom, that shifting, blowing, migrating essence of smart living?
One might find it, like one finds trash, in common places.
Wisdom shines from every fissure, riff, nook, platform, roadway, open shelf and wide roof top of the earth.
Wisdom, says one ancient proverb, cries out from every corner.
I believe that. I see wisdom lurking in every experience, hiding within every challenge, residing inside of the lining of every problem and taking wing within the potential musings of every person. But there is one place, I have noticed, that wise stuff tends to collect most. Within a breathing, heart pounding, dialoguing relationship with the source of all knowledge and wisdom.
Wisdom, the gold of smart living, is found first, second, third, fourth and every other number in the universal catalogue of numbers — natural, whole, interger, rational, irrational or imaginary — in God.
Want wisdom? Then ask God for it; go further, cry out to God for it!
Really want it? Then do not let up in this single, beautiful and too seldom actioned request: “God, will you waft wise bits of smart thought and way down my mental sidewalks and into the tiny creases and crannies of my small brain?
Mind blowingly, He will.
Thrive! 