Plenty of

Nothing

I didn’t send a newsletter yesterday.

Did you miss it?

I ask with sincerity.

In this world where people find themselves rushing from one activity to another, I question the value of what I’m adding to the soup.

Yesterday, I had a little morning rush of my own. I took an early drive to meet a friend from high school for coffee. Nothing about our time together was rushed. On an outside patio, I devoured a spinach frittata and half a blueberry-lemon scone along with a paper cup full of decaf.

I don’t have many friends. The ones closest in heart live farthest away. We don’t see each other often, but when we do meet face to face, it’s like we’d never been separated. Friends of the good, Nik Goke calls them.

Do you have friends that you can devour breakfast in front of without worrying if you have spinach in your teeth?

Anyhow, when I got home in the early afternoon, I found I had nothing to say—and, so—I chose to stay quiet.

This morning, Henrietta has finally dozed off for her morning nap. Sitting at the kitchen counter, computer resting on tan and brown granite, I thought…I still have nothing to say!

In that instant, I remembered a song I learned as a young girl. I’ve Got Plenty of Nothing…And Nothing’s Plenty for Me from Porgy and Bess by George Gershwin.

There was a time when I’d have allowed my mind to chase its own tail (Like Henri does) in search of something valuable to say. Today my mind spontaneously pulled up song lyrics from my depths.

Is the person who has nothing rich indeed?

Another Awakening meditation from De Mello:

“Who is a happy person?”
“One who has no resources and no hopes—and doesn’t desire any,” said the Master.