If my journalsthe past five years were condensed into book form, they would equal 10 books the size of War & Peace, and if you summarized those 10 books into one sentence, this would be it:
I am not satisfied with life, so I look for it in temporary highs.
That's it. That's a large part of my life the past five years. I've been on a journey searching for the best kind of life, and I've searched in music, friendship, God, church, technology, theology, money, knowledge, service, possessions, books, relationships, nature, creativity, work, entertainment, and food. These all brought me temporary happiness.
I'm weary from the search.
Some would say my "life" is so unresembling of any life that it might as well be called my "death," as though I'm a walking corpse.
And so here's the plan:
Start moving closer to something rather than nothing
Say yes to a few things and no to everything else
Susan E. Isaacs said in her book Angry Conversations With God, after going through the bottom of many bottles and several men and finding healing from those wounds, that she was put on earth for more than just to get healed; she was meant to play her note, meaning she actually has work to do, something to contribute towards one great song.
I always feel like I need a foundation, a starting point from which to start moving. But that search could last until I'm 70, and I can't wait that long, so I'm just going to start moving towards something rather than nothing.
However, here is something interesting: Because of his overflowing love for you, the person who made you went through great pain so that you could belong to him, and no matter how badly you screw up, his love won't change in the slightest, and you won't be condemned by him.
No bad thing you do will make him love you any less, and no good thing you do will make him love you any more.
Now that you know that, it should set you free to explore the world he's placed you in, to find your fit, and then live wild and free. Pray, read, serve, know and love others, work, eat, and sleep from that place, not from an anxious, wandering, hopeless place. There is nothing--nothing--that can separate you from your rescuer's love. Nothing. Nothing.
Nothing.
If that doesn't free you up to live, nothing will. Everything you strive for will bring you temporary highs or in some cases years of happiness and contentment at best, but you will always have a nagging sense that there's still something missing.
Now this is sure: you will be sad, mad, lonely, irritated, embarrassed, unsatisfied, confused, and despairing in the future. There is no magic bit of information, no matter how great and true--such as his unfathomable amount of love for you--that will always make everything better, and here's why: you're still a human. The gamut of human emotions are OK to feel. You're not a robot. You can't be programmed to react perfectly to every life situation. And actually, I don't think you want to, because then love would not be possible. But lean your weight into this: trust that he actually does have a tremendous amount of affection for you, and you're going to be OK. Because there is nothing you can do to change it. Absolutely nothing. Do you believe that? Because the more you believe it and start living from that place, the more weight you'll find lifted from your shoulders, and the more you'll be able to be who you really are.
Here's some more good information: the agony he went through was in large part in order to free you. This will never get old, and if it does it's because you're not yet who you were meant to be, and that's OK. You were meant to add to the great song by playing your note wildly and freely.
we hung out all weekend. i didn't touch her (she doesn't like it)
(what kind of girl doesn't like being touched?)
we went ice skating and watched paper heart. we went to church and an ice festival where my toes almost froze off.
(she had wool boots so her feet were getting toasty)
she spilled potato soup on her lap at subway and tried acting like nothing happened, but i saw it and commented on it so it was less embarrassing, probably.
(i had the $5 footlong meatball sub)
we laughed at biggby coffee because i spilled hot cocoa down her pant leg and then wiped it off with a glass of water and a white napkin that crumbled across her jeans and fell into her sheep boots. we laughed some more at things i can't remember.
she left and our texts the next few days were tense. i had an ecclesiastes day, she gave me advice, i told her i don't need more answers, she apologized, i apologized. i had a facebook chat with my friend, who said that if this girl is going to leave me after one existential bout, she's not worth having.
i thought about how much work relationships are, especially long distance ones, and i concluded that they are, in fact, hard work.
that night i woke up suddenly with a few lines in my head. i couldn't shake them, so i wrote them down, and they've been echoing in my head for several days.
awake with existential angst and i don't care what love costs
"Weeeell," I said like I often do. "You say that a lot," she said. "Do you mind?" I said this like Jim Carrey in Liar Liar when they find him in the bathroom beating himself up. She's used to my antics by now, but still I'm afraid she might think I'm rude sometimes when really I'm just playing. "I'm just playing." Her face went softer than usual and she said in a gentle voice, "I know," and she held the w on her lips for a second. Doesn't she know this kills me? "Do you ever get tired of me playing?" She shook her head and looked at me with her mouth firm and slightly smiling. Doesn't she know that kills me, too? I die often when I'm around her but I can't help it. Who can help that? "What if I was never serious? Then would you get tired of it?" "I like you just the way you are." She's said that to me before, but I always like it just as much as the time before. "Buuuut what if I are different?" "You are different." She's a fairly serious person so when she says something funny it catches me by surprise. "Haha! 'You are different.' Why are you so funny?" "I'm not funny, you're funny." "No you're funny." "Nooo." She emphasized the "w" in "noo" and, man, kill kill kill. "Weeeeell," I said again. "Weeeeell," she repeated and I mock smiled. "What do you say we pop this blow stand?" "I'm still working." "Mmmm no, you're done." "Oh am I?" "It would appear so," I said while pushing her laptop closed. She playfully gave me a surprised look and I smiled real big. "Can't type when there's no keys." She tried opening it but I put my hand on top of it and made a confused face and said, "Well that's weird. It appears to be locked." "Hmmm, that is weird. There appears to be something preventing it from opening," she said, examining the non-mystery. I made an O with my mouth. "Don't be redicurous." She sat back and gently slapped her hands on her lap. “So where are we going?” She gave up easily because even though she has work to do, she likes to be with me a lot more, which I don’t understand and I’m so glad I don’t have to, because who has time for thinking about that when they can be with the prettiest girl in the northern hemisphere, most likely the entire world? “To a park and we’ll frolic.” “Mmmmm.” “Yeash,” I said like Michael Scott from The Office. We raced out the doors; she beat me even though I ran really fast this time.
"I didn't get your name last time," I said, and before I said this my stomach did a cartwheel because I was thinking about her approximately once per minute the past 48 hours and now she was here in the flesh, not 5 feet from each of my senses. "I didn't give it," Her Prettiness said, sort of playfully but she was serious it seemed, so I thought about a sort-of playful but mostly serious mother to a normal child, and that was enough fuel to keep me going for at least the rest of the night, so anything else would just be bonus. I couldn't show this, though - she shouldn't know I was flying. My eyes went big for a second and I said, "Mysterious." "It rained last night." Yes but what will we name our children, Miss Mysterious? "Yyyeah, yeah, it did." I don't know if this was wrong but I already felt comfortable with her. Is it because we already went through seasons together in my mind so I felt like I knew her really well? But I had to remember that it's a similar thing as in high school when you dream about somebody and then you see them the next day in the hall and you want to say, "Hey I saw you last night for a couple hours" and you really feel like you had this experience with them that was so real that you both obviously know about it, except they didn't experience it, obviously, because it was your own dream so you keep quiet about it or run the risk of being smacked, or at least labeled weird. But since I felt too-quickly comfortable with her I had to be careful not to be too casual like with the words that just came out of my mouth about the rain. "I thought about what you said about each drop having its own story." "Yeah?" I said Yeah but what I meant was, "Were you thinking of me sitting next to you on our porch with my arm around you and our dog at our feet as the dark clouds rolled through the neighborhood and you squeezed my hand because you were confident I would shelter you from anything, even a violent storm like that one?" "Yeah. I thought what an interesting concept that was." "I have to tell you," because I always want to be honest, even about the small things; especially about the small things, because those are the easiest ones to get away with, but I don't want to get away with them; I don't want to get away with anything, I want to be able to say what I'm thinking even if it will embarrass me, but I'll be so confident of us that I won't even get embarrassed, "I got the idea from a song." "What song?" "That's a profound question if you mean it metaphorically." "How so?" "Like dance is used as a metaphor for life or other things." There was a medium-length pause. "I'm speaking literally," she said plainly. "I know. I'm hungry let's get some literal ice cream." "Ok." My feelings would have to find a channel some other time. Ice cream distracts me.
