I think that the dying pray at the last not "please," but "thank you," as a guest thanks his host at the door. Falling from airplanes the people are crying thank you, thank you, all down the air; and the cold carriages draw up for them on the rocks. Divinity is not playful. The universe was not made in jest but in solemn incomprehensible earnest. By a power that is unfathomably secret, and holy, and fleet . . .
A sort of comforting paragraph. There is praise and gratitude. However, there is also people hurtling through the air toward rocky ends. God doesn't mess around, Dillard seems to be saying. There's nothing casual about the universe. It is mysterious, sacred, and nimble.
Hi, I'm back. Sorry for my absence yesterday. I have been working on putting together the online class I'm teaching this summer, and last night I had some technical issues. Actually, after five, frustrating hours, I was ready to take a sledgehammer to my laptop. I was in no mood to try to be reflective. I barely wanted to be around my family.
Today, I'm better, and I have a lot to be thankful for. Good things. First, yesterday morning I heard from my editor. He loved my poems and is going to use them in the anthology that he's putting together. That was blessing number one.
Second, I have found a new car to buy. It is a Subaru Impreza. Much smaller than my Ford Freestyle, but it has low mileage and will probably last for about ten years. I drove it all last night and today, and I'm convinced that it will be a good choice. And the price is right. Blessing number two.
Finally, when I got home today, there was a letter waiting for me. It was from the Dean of the College, congratulating me. It seems that I have been awarded the promotion for which I applied. Now, instead of Contingent Assistant Professor Saint Marty, I shall be called Contingent Professor Saint Marty. It made me really happy, and it also means that I will be able to make more money in the fall when classes start. Blessing number three.
However, as Dillard points out, as you are soaring through the air, saying "thank you," the rocks are quickly approaching. My daughter just had a major meltdown in front of me, telling me how miserable she is. She doesn't have anything to do, and I am one of the main causes of her misery. Rocks, ahoy.
Blessings or not, Saint Marty always has his daughter to bring him back to reality.