My hotel room is sealed tight like an airplane cabin. Beyond the glass a huge medieval church spires into the heavens leaving it's crumbly structure to cast a void and dreary shadow over the snaking river city of Cologne. The water current flows heavily one way while lengthy barges haul an ironic combination of new and old garbage the other. The new being needed supplies, the latter being stuff we already spent our money on.
Since I checked in 5 hours ago, there has been an endless train of trains crossing the bridge. And there is always someone on a bike making the journey from one side to the other, as there are plenty of cars, almost as many as there are sea birds congregating over the passing ships.
There are a fair amount of high rises and cranes indicating new heights to come, and with this bustling city portrait must come its share of noises. But I can't hear any of it. Only my thoughts and a dull hum from a fan locked somewhere in the ceiling.
I don't feel the vibrating roar of the trains. I don't hear the splash of the Rhine against the boat traffic. I don't hear the patrons of the beer gardens singing thru their laughter. There's no buzz of city lights, white noise, or even a distant radio playing. I may as well be fading into a painting.
I could go out and become a part of this living portrait. But it looks so cold. In here I am able to stretch and stand up straight, something the tour bus doesn't offer. Inside it is warm and I am prepared for rest already. My day clothes could easily be classified pajamas and I haven't the motivation to find something else to do. This is something to do, this practice in staring, wanting nothing to do. In solitude I find that being alone is to be with God.
The tour often gets overtaken with repetition. As fascinating as Europe is, short conversations begin sound the same and only the delightful accent differs. And with repeat workdays it's easy to get into a habit of form and think less about the creativity at the root of every decision we make. Sometimes, rather than try to make a home in a new community for a few short hours, I just keep busy cultivating new words and energies, satisfied by the big fat ambitious picture. One that is fueled by passion, is sacred and abundant, and doesn't deny any of the truths, like the weight of common sadness.
The big picture is alive and well and it relaxes where it has for more than seven hundred years.
