Post 20/2024 Goshen, Indiana. A stillness flowed through the National Express coach two weeks ago as we plied on toward London (an eventual 12-hour journey occasioned by traffic delays). The lowering sun highlighted everything as though in slow motion. It’s as though the hub bub of the day had given way to the softening hours before nightfall.

Some people look at this time of day as the leisure or happy hour, a time to pause for pre-dinner drinks, maybe at a pub. Dinner and evening activities bide their time.

I prefer a more fluid description of this in-between time of dying day. Call it mindfully or silently moving through liminal space. If time were a stream, it would be murmuring rather than nosily rushing. Blissful.

I especially like how Italians and other Mediterranean folk observe these hours. Years ago we stayed in Monterosso al Mare in Italy’s Cinque Terre region. Between five and eight PM people emerged from their homes for the passeggiata (derived from Italian for “walk”). Individuals, couples, and families turned out on the streets for their daily pre-dinner stroll, quietly celebrating a sense of community, window shopping, having a drink at a sidewalk café. There was no hurry or destination, just a walk about town; folks were dressed up, too. We joined and enjoyed the flow–and had our pre-dinner drink in the form of a gelato cone.

The least one can do at such an in-between time of day is take a break. Reflect on the day. Note gratitudes. Enjoy the quiet. Be swept up in the slow and engaging current.

Blooms from a walk this week

My life flows on, the hymn affirms. “My life flows on in endless song, above earth’s lamentation. . . .” Refrain: “No storm can shake my in-most calm while to that Rock I’m clinging. Since Love is lord of heav’n and earth, how can I keep from singing?” Robert Lowry, 1869

Time for a passeggiata?

-John