I'm feeling quite philosophical today so pardon the detour from relating life's events to the wanderings of a weekend's thoughts. A few years ago when the album, Heavier Things by John Mayer, came out I was able to attend a concert with my mom. We were talking about one of his songs "Missing" She said, "I know what that feels like, to have nothing wrong but feel like something's not quite right." At the time, I couldn't fathom what she meant by that. I felt like I had all my pieces in place. My internal dialogue was spunky, full of life and generally good. The external part of my life, the one lived outside my gray matter, had its difficulties and challenges but at the end of the day I was pleased with myself and with my relationship with God.
This weekend I spent two nights at the Hilton DFW in Grapevine as a scholarship recipient to a literary conference. Last year was my first experience there. I had an amazing time. I felt like I had stumbled onto a community of writers and storytellers. It felt good to be a part of that. This year was a little different. Perhaps, colored by repetition. Perhaps, I felt out of place because Dave came for the first night and then left and I felt myself alone in a sea of faces. I made friends last night with a delightful mother and daughter and stayed talking with them in the lobby until 1 a.m. However, on the whole I feel a little bit empty. Its as though my vision is clouded and the colors are less crisp, the air thicker and difficult to breathe. I should be enjoying my time off. I have a one month break before school starts. I should be delighting in my children. Enjoying summer like usual. But I haven't hit my stride.
I've been thinking about what changes our perceptions of life. When we look around and see that all is right with the world and are still not satisfied. John Mayer's words are: It doesn't help the hunger pains and a thirst I'd have to drown first to ever satiate. I'm hungry for something but I don't know what the remedy is because I have what I need, it seems. What is missing is my perception of those met needs. The evolution of how we see our lives fascinates me. In the past, when things were darkest, I felt the most alive. When they aren't I'm not sure how to capture the joy of that. To relish the light, and the love that I have accessible all around me. I wonder if our bodies are not cut out for it. If we allow the depth of joy that our spirit's are capable of, maybe we could not survive it. Maybe the secret is to look for the stash--the hidden cupboard in the darkness that we like to wallow in so we can keep it closed--in order to break off digestible pieces. I think I avoid the opportunities for joy intentionally. Business takes the place of the quiet sunlight that requires you to be still in order to gain the most benefit from it. Because joy takes work. It takes prying open the rusty hinges of unpracticed adults. It sounds good. It looks good on a child spinning on a tire swing and giggling. Until we think of the nausea and the discomfort of the spin. It looks good on an athlete as they cross the finish line. Until we hear about their injuries and hours of training.
The seasons of our lives connect--suffering to joy, joy to disappointment, disappointment to determination. Sometimes I long for even rather than bumpy seasons. I'll go out of my way to find a numbness that will allow me to stay on a flat road. And then I remember the crest of the roller coaster as it rounds the top of the hill and the exhilaration. And look forward to it.
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