There has been something quite like a boomerang, relaying an inaudible thirst that I have barely been able to translate. I am 9 days away from moving out. I hate that these feelings of enlightenment coordinate with my leaving; making me doubt the authenticity of these revelations. But nevertheless, their long term presence, however quiet in me, have gained my trust and now, attention.
Most days, it is a bunch of wadded up vessels, constricted and fighting to make their way to my heart and mind. There are pictures and videos of inhumanity that will flood and just as quickly, retreat back into the same blackness from which they came. And there is that flush of guilt that follows and that backboard that forms and then that rebounding sound that echoes this incapacity to be of whole compassion. To be of the distraction-less empathy for which the cry demands.
Countless times I have tried to sit with these feelings; create a dialogue with them so whatever sickness has implanted itself, I could be of counsel. But I am now understanding their swiftness and how they have conquered my emotional threshold for this long. These defense mechanisms that are so widely a part of psychological conversation today have become a recurrent, working part in my intuitive processing. Yikes.
Apart from the feelings that are sent to this new emotion-deterring growth I now possess, there is that aforementioned, boomerang-like whisper. I have grown to love it immensely. It is picky and lucid and aware of this live possibility. It has pushed me down 5 mile paths, battled negative self-delusion, and continues to break down bones that cease to function for my benefit. Despite my said repellent to discouragement, this note of resilience and idealism has been the most brilliant consolation for all the ugly bits. It denies me the ease of conforming to failure and demands of me movement; progression ; fight. Therein lies this defiance for rusting what inspires; “everything”, it tells me, “everything which excites your interior must come to life”.
I am united with a zeal for possibility and change now. It has evolved in me and through me and created a basis for an authenticity-sought life. That is why I reflect on the way I return to my faith this upcoming year, having left it for some time. Quite candidly, nothing about the way I attempted to commune with Jesus this year was aligned with the manner I so needed. In that time, I allowed my misapproaching to characterize Him in a way which ceased to reflect the first time I fell in love with being Fathered and ultimately loved. I became tired of my softness which had failed me often, so I built a shell constructed not upon any moral code but more so my own, revised, agenda. There was no capacity, no space for anything but comfortability. I was safe to grow, isolated and apart from the constructs of a false encasing-of-a-faith. Again, that rebounding sound urged me to be without so I could finally be with.
In this time of apartness, I listened and responded to the loose ends. I read upon my introversion, learning that often the demeanor of my Church was unfit for my needs as an individual. Often the people of the Church criticize others for desiring a more “tailored-to” atmosphere because Jesus calls us to be unified and one and universal. In this moment of conversation I have to stray because I feel that individualism in the faith is indisputably needed for the fullest reception He desires for us to receive. In “Quiet” by Susan Cain, I read many accounts of the wall-flowers, the ones who often feel punished by a culture who places such a high premium on networking and outwardness, even learning of those who struggled with a disconnect at Church. Why? Because in an effort to be one, the Church well meaningly yet consequently divorced those who make up a third of their congregation by emphasizing expression over meditative reflection. One source in particular gifted me the knowledge that there is in fact ” a place in God’s Kingdom for sensitive, reflective types. It’s not easy to claim but it’s there”. Concerning my return to living an active faith, I place a respect for myself and my distinct idiosyncrasies, that in the past I have denied because it was convenient to take what was offered. For the benefit of myself as well as others, I’m deciding to simply seek truth that is discriminative.
In the “without” I also claimed another part of me that presently designs my future intricately. After losing about 22 pounds, I became watered and passionate about my health and that of others. This interest is quickly becoming a treasured variable in my career goals, resulting in constant bouts of my own research. For now and as long as my spirit engages, I plan to subject myself to the fascination and wonder that presents itself in this field.
Cordially I write : to the spots where love was and the spots where love was not: I am eternally grateful in how everything that has happened lines up in a perfect stitch, ’til it fits exactly as it was supposed to.
loose ends 