the MAKING of REST

(From Prison, January 2013) I strike several keys on my 1980's word processor, stringing unrelatable words together, and then I pause. Backspace. Backspace. Backspace. I hold down the backspace key until the screen is blank again. If the machine could speak it would say, “STOP PUSHING BUTTONS!”  Not yet! Because I cannot rest until I write my blog for the day.I close my eyes to blind out the blaring TV program, the cacophony of different radio stations, and the fluctuating conversations and airless bickering that is produced by 38 inmates on one housing block. Unfortunately the eyes don’t stop the ears, and though my eyes were being covered, my ears were still picking up coverage. It’s hard to concentrate in here. I must focus. I cannot rest. I lean back on my chair to crack my back and stretch before going at this again. Again, I type words one letter at a time that seem to have no transition. No coal for any motivational train of thought. I lose steam.Random thoughts begin to fight for my attention, pushing their way to the forefront of my mind. I shuffle through them, seeing which ones are suitable and usable to allow entrance through the red rope of my veins, and eventually into my fingers to continue typing. A transfer of information from inside out.None seem to be able to pay the cover charge, so I scan the crowd of thoughts once again, looking for any potential VIP ideas.  (V)irtuous.  (I)nspirational.  (P)ositive. None.  I’m now restless. I feel dry. I need to reset my mind. I stop force-feeding my thoughts and open my devotional. Randomly. A previous passage that I had read a few days ago whets my curiosity with a wave of a yellow highlighter. How fitting. I let silence finish what my fingers started. A rest that paid the cover charge. A stillness that has me covered. I don’t have to think so hard after all. I lean back in my chair again, but this time to relax before typing my blog for the day. “I need to memorize this,” I encourage myself.Finally, I type one letter at a time in caps and watch them manifest themselves together on the screen before me:“THERE IS NO MUSIC DURING A MUSICAL REST, BUT THE REST IS PART OF THE MAKING OF THE MUSIC” (Streams, Jan. 22, pg. 43).I can rest? I can rest! There is never anything productive in anxiety and frustration.