It’s a gorgeous day atop the Hill, the Old Main clock ticks away steadily, and the question flies out of our mouths: Howareya? As the wind brushes up the autumn leaves, this salutation is immediately overtaken by a mission to beat the clock. Hanging in the air is a conversation about someone’s unique and present well-being. How do we treat the answer—as if we’ve heard it before or like we can guess it? Past … future … aren’t we in the present?

The feeling extends from that conversation to our lives. Hanging unanswered, breath held—how do we slow down?

Recently, bright orange fliers yielded students’ attention to Erazim Kohak’s presence at Gustavus. The former Gustavus philosopher and current Czech professor graciously spoke in Chapel and at several lectures. He reminded us to simply appreciate the gift of waking up healthy each morning—ears hearing, eyes observing, lungs breathing.

Kohak, eyes crinkling his eight or so decades of life, observes how we try to understand and delineate time into neat little boxes of past, present and future. These boxes, Tupperware-style perhaps, prevent a peaceful and joyous lifestyle. Kohak writes and speaks of “seeing the present as a link of what has been and what will be.” Moments are gifts—reminders that life is more than what should have been done or what we should do.

Life is full of moments to be treasured and indeed worked through, full of pockets of life to wonder and to relish the abundance of good in each day. These moments are valuable as momentary lapses and also pieces of the story of our lives. Simple as this idea seems, Kohak lives his life as a gift of the past and the future and encourages a genuine hope in oneself and the world.

Woven into this momentary appreciation, Kohak gently encourages the story of living. The leaves will always fall. Birds will migrate, snow will fall. Human life brings uniqueness to the regularity of the seasons. Predictable and knowable as some things are, Kohak suggests that mankind is given “a will to history.” Hope for change, capacity to wonder and ponder and to bring about change. This is uniquely human. Kohak said, “It is the story of my life that I live that gives life meaning.” History, no longer past and future, is now in our hands.

As I grow into my drawing class, I’m pondering these words. Goodness and hope dwell in the process and practice of living. Perfection of living does not exist—instead, like a drawing, it is etched and erased, penciled in and attempted again for another chance. Each day is that white sheet, and Kohak reminds us that our lives are so as well.

Filling the blank page with a smattering of shades is a fine way to creatively and freely live, but the white, unmarked parts are living moments as well. Perhaps they even exist as a gift of the present. There a change will be made or a risk will be taken. Each day and every moment is full of opportunities.

The blessings of living in a community of compassion, life and opportunity lead us to believe we can do five, ten, no, one hundred things … all at once! As we busily highlight our schedules hour by hour, is white even a color anymore?

When given the moment to gaze at the sky or trees instead of your computer, what do you see? Perhaps a great space—a grace-space inviting and full of peace and hope. The clouds float by, white and plain to busy minds. Each cloud freely travels and lives wherever the wind wills.
Gaze upwards, off your life to see the clouds or to notice the leaves. What colors will you see today?