thoughts from the library

The last month I really remember all of living through was October.  What happened?  I was in Guinea, struggling but living, with so much energy, so much life.  Over-filled with weaving, bogolan work, building friendships, running around town, and trying to figure out the meaning of all of this, November flew by.  In December my feet made the transition from chacos to snow boots and back to chacos, the dirt of three different continents beneath my toes.  Even though January contained 32 sunsets and the longest day of my life, it passed by in a blur, and the rest of spring semester right along with it.  Now it’s the Sunday before exam week, four months later.  

What happened?  I’m just beginning to feel comfortable again in this space I call my own, and in just over a week I’ll be leaving again.  Is life always coming and going?  Will I ever know myself in one place for longer than can be measured in weeks?  

Yet even as I write this, it terrifies me to stand still.  If I’m wandering at least I don’t have to be still long enough to look in the mirror, to look at things as they are right here and now.  If I’m running everything remains a blur and I don’t have to focus on it if I don’t want to.  

But have you ever tried to embrace and continue running at the same time?  Running hugs always end in spinning in circles, caught in each other’s momentum when hanging on was more important than continuing on.  You can’t embrace and continue to run blindly.  Arms open wide, you have to stop and let that person fill you with the entirety of their being, their direction, their love.  It catches you off guard sometimes, can change your direction completely.  And yet, when you’re caught in that embrace, eyes close.

Shut.  But not shut out.  Shut because at that moment, what can be seen is insignificant to knowing that at this moment, arms wrapped around and tears flowing in torrents together, sight is insignificant.  I feel your love, I know it deeper than anything I could ever see.  Eyes close, not to further ignore the blur that is life flying by, but to fully embrace everything that it is, everything that could possibly be.  Caught up in this moment, the eyes close and the heart opens.  Did you realize how long it’s been?  

The heart opens slowly, scar tissue stiff from years and years of disappointments and misunderstandings and loss without reason.  It’s slow, but once it’s started, it’s hard to believe there was a time when it was shut tight, shut to keep out the world.  With the eyes open, life was flying by in a blur, body tight, breath weezing, heart clenched shut to protect, but frozen ground never grew flowers.  

I’m thawing.  Slowly but surely, not without struggles, and you better believe I’m fighting against it.  But I’m tired of running.  Tired of trying to run other peoples’ races, trying to fit other peoples’ expectations; tired of pretending I have answers when I know I never will, pretending I’m something static when I know I’m constantly becoming.  The world smiles in sunshine; early morning breakfast with the birds as the sun crests the top of the canyon, and streaming through the library window as I sit with everyone else trying to get papers finished in time for finals.  The world smiles and all I can see is miracle.  

You smile and all I see is miracle.  The flowers open up, miracle of color.  The rain falls in sheets, numbing and chilling to the bone and I know I am alive, miracle of self.  The breeze feels cool against my skin, but it carries with it the sweet scent of the trees, waking up after too long a sleep, miracle of life.  Your love catches me off guard, Papa.  I am left breathless.  Tired of running, you catch me in your embrace; my eyes close to all that distracts, and my heart opens to miracle of love, of life, of being.  

What do you want to be when you grow up?  What do you want to do with your major?  Where do you see yourself in 5 years?  When I grow up I want to be in love with life, and I want to use my major to live with convictions and questions, and in 5 years I don’t care where I’ll be because wherever I’ll be I’ll be with God.