Monster-mountains

(With thanks to The Avett Brothers and Welcome to Night Vale, who really have been the shield that my friends have held up for me recently.)

I-40 West has two peak driving seasons each year- late September/October and spring days like today that lull you into a false sense of summer, days when you can roll down the windows and smell the dying vivacity or purposeful renewing of the world. Driving down the road on days like today, with the windows down, the sun browning my arm, and the Avett Brothers blaring, I feel like the world is back in love with me, filling in the seams and cracks of my imperfection with warm light and fresh air. In the winter, it's so easy to forget our place in the world, to forget what our lives are all about.

Which is what, exactly?

This has been a long winter. April, I was not ready for you, but I am comfortable with blaming that on March, February, January, December, November, and September, so maybe you should have a chat with your friends, there, April. (Except you, February. Nobody cares what you think.) And in the same way that someone running away from a velociraptor doesn't particularly focus on their place and use in the world as they run, I've lost sight of whatever it is I'm supposed to be during these past few months. But I'm ready to change that. As one of my friends said, "I'm just ready to know what my purpose is."

And I think, in some ways, not knowing our purpose makes our lives harder. Not that those of us without a firm purpose are lost children wandering in the woods or anything like that, but to have a goal, to know that you're a functioning member of society, to know that your life is going to have an impact on some level, that confidence in our purpose can guide us and push us forward. If your purpose is to have a family and raise kids that then go on to have families that spread the love throughout a community, then your job takes its proper place in that vision. If your purpose is to invent and innovate and make and design and bring new ideas and thoughts into the world, then setting time aside for that creative process seems less selfish to me. If your purpose is to care for others, in body, mind, or soul, then spending time on yourself so that you can be better able to pour yourself into others makes more sense. And not that you shouldn't always have a good work-life balance, and take time to make things, and take time for yourself, and not that you can't have a combination of all of these lives and needs, but having a reason to remind you that these things are okay is helpful.

Outside of that guidance, knowing what you're supposed to be doing helps pull you out of the doldrums. I think a part of adulthood is knowing that there are going to be times of routine that can lead to stagnation. Sometimes our path takes us to stretches of sea where the winds are absent and the currents lazy. We're not wrong to be there, but we aren't meant to live there. Knowing that you have a goal and reorganizing your life around that goal is like having a steam engine on your ship. It might take more energy out of your reserves, but it will keep you going. Without that engine, you're left pacing the decks of an increasingly smaller boat, praying for a tailwind.

I love going to church council meetings, which, I think, may be the strongest sign of my call I've ever come across. But I love watching the church alive, the church thinking about its priorities, the church designing the gears that allow it to function. And I love dealing with rational functions in algebra. The problems that you get are these messy polynomials and it's your job to simplify them and reduce until they're something manageable and functional, and then you can graph the functions and use them to model real-world scenarios (kinda). But there is a joy for me in observing, quantifying, analyzing, and restructuring so that progress can be made, and putting this specific joy in a church brings verve to it. Being a member of a church reminds me that I'm a part of a bigger story and gives me instantaneous access to a community of people and a living, breathing organization that's remembering its place in the world. It wraps me in a community that, if all things were equal, would rekindle the fire in my engine to push me out of the winter's doldrums.

But, as we know, all things aren't equal. We all have our demons to face. I'm so scared of the twin monsters of Pride and Poverty, with their familiar accents, that I've sat down at the crossroads and alternated between staring them down to see who blinks first and burying my head in my arms with the hope that they'll go away when I'm not looking. I feel like one or the other monster stalks any path I want to take. Or maybe they're mountains instead of monsters, and I have to conquer them to be able to see my purpose on the other side of the road. Monster-mountains that hurl stones of indecision and listlessness at me with impeccable aim and every stone bruises. Some break.

I want to end this on a high note. I want some turnabout, some recourse, where I say, "But oh, I've had this shield [of undetermined metaphorical significance] the whole time and it's high time I started using it" or "I'm strong enough to get through this and take my place in the song/dance of life" or "I've realized that I'm reading too much into this and the best we can do is to live our lives with the love we have available to us because the idea of purpose puts on undue burden on our thoughts and existence", but none of that rings true to me.

I think things are fluid. I think I haven't seen enough of life yet to figure it out. I think that no matter how much it sucks, there are times that we have to move forward in our lives without the map that purpose can be, and know that ships can go in many directions, including backwards. I think we have to fight our demons, because they're not going to move and they're not going leave and they're not going to stop, but I don't think we have to do that alone. I think we can share our bruises. I think we can ask to be handled with care until the battle's won, no matter how many weeks or months or years we have to fight. I think we have to use the full arsenal of existence, from carefully considering our motivations to pushing forward with determination to retreating for the chance to regroup to depending on the wisdom and strength and encouragement of others to standing strong, to make our lives what they need to be so that the world benefits from the air we use.

And I think this is hard.

But I don't think that it is too hard for us.

Thoughts from Last Night

Dear Boy,

I ache for you sometimes.

And sometimes I think that it’s not at all for you. Sometimes I think that the ache in my arms, the physical yearning in the muscles connecting my biceps to my torso, I think that’s for someone else and dear god do I want one day to find them. I want that day to be now. I am morbidly curious to know what it feels like to fall asleep beside someone else.

But sometimes, I think that the ache could be for you. Sometimes, I imagine a world where we got to try again, where you saw confidence in my eyes instead of fear and longing, where we met with our more complete views of the world and talked and dreamed and where I'd spend an entire night with you on the mountain, curled in blankets, hand in hand, whispering the stories I’ve learned, pointing to the stars whose shapes I now know and can describe. I've grown up, you see, and I’m better, and there’s a world to be shared with someone else and sometimes, I think that could be you.

Except that it couldn’t be. You once told me that I had a beautiful soul and at the time, as expected (I would have found my past self lacking in complexity if she had thought anything different), I was more upset that you only saw my soul when there was my entire self here, in front of you, waiting to be noticed in the expected ways. And I think now, you’d still be looking for that soul, and I can’t promise that you’d find it.

I dragged my soul around behind me like Linus’ blanket. It went everywhere with me; it was a comfort, a tool, something to mop up the messes in my way and around me. It was something from home, something treasured and worn, something that new people didn’t really understand, something childish. Eventually, I set it aside and let it gather dust. Souls get worn, you know? They tear and need patches and when you hold them up to the light, they can seem like they’re not worth the effort it would take to fix it. So you live with the hole, you hide the stain, you cram it in the bottom of a drawer you know you never intend to open again. It is a functional life I lead, with no time to sit around stitching an ugly thing back together.

Maybe you wouldn’t see that.

But I do.

The moonlight that shines on me is harsh and brighter than you’d think, blocking out all but the brightest stars and bouncing off too-thick folds of skin that cover and pad tired bones. And I do think I learned many things, like how to sit up straight and smile while your spine curls within you and how to paint away imperfections and what a difference an effort in the morning can make and the exact magnitude of the impact that a pair of heels makes as they dig almost imperceptibly into tiled floors. But tonight, I’d pray for this harsh moonlight to draw up some magic, for my soul to float from its hiding place into the lovely semi-darkness, for moonlight and starlight to twirl together and knit my soul into a seamless whole before my eyes, without me lifting a finger.Then my soul could travel with me again and you’d marvel at the dark shimmer sparkle and we’d spend years filling each other’s imperfections with pools of love.

There are things in the way, though, and I’m much too tired to move them on my own. But for now, it doesn’t really matter. I know there will be someone, somewhere, sometime, It’ll come, it’ll come, it’ll come, it’ll come, it’ll come. And I’ll look back on this night, with the moonlight, without you, watching the clouds run among the stars and smile sadly, momentarily mourning the loss of my independence. Then I’ll roll over and remember it was a trade and not a sacrifice and kiss a cheek well worth kissing. We’ll gleam and shine and twinkle in another night’s life.

I’d like to pretend this is goodbye.

I know it’s not.

But it’s goodnight, at least.

Goodnight.

Days

Today is the day.

Today is the day I stop believing lies about myself. I will stop listening to the voice inside my head that promises that we’re just being realistic here when we judge the sum total of our face and our hair and our rolls as determinedly unattractive. That voice promises that I am hideous and useless and truly unloved and it has gone a bridge too far. Though I can do better and be much healthier, that voice doesn’t speak true. Today, I start believing in myself again.

Today is the day I stop fighting my body. My posture and gait are as important as the food I eat, the beverages I drink, the stretches I do, and the exercises I plan. I have to begin listening to the creaks and tears of my brain and body, because I only get the one and I need it to last. Today, I start taking care of myself.

Today is the day I stop doing anything less than my level best at my job. It’s the day that I stop taking internet breaks to click that link or check this form of social media, distractedly, obsessively, and over and over again. It’s the day that I stop staring at my computer listlessly in the face of challenge and start creating, making, problem solving, and learning. Today, I start trying again.

Today is the day I stop making excuses for myself. Those little lies and flimsy reasons are just brambles that hold me back, snares that slow me down and keep me from moving forward. Excuses grow into arguments against action and I am finished with inaction. Today, I take responsibility for myself.

Today is the day I stop pretending to want things I don’t. I don’t want to settle down right now. I don’t want to back myself into a career just because I think I should. I don’t want to settle for a nice man, a picket fence, and consolation children. I don’t want to stay comfortable, relegated to the well-understood back corner when there is a world of wonderfully thorny problems out there, waiting to be solved. Today, I start looking for the something more I’ve been yearning for.

Today is the day I stop apologizing for myself. The questions I ask, the words I say, the space I occupy, these things are not offenses or outrages to the people around me, nor should they be.  I’m not going to hide the fact that I’m a capable woman so that others can feel comfortable. I will delve into the subjects and ideas that fascinate me without concern for intimidation. I will work with confident dedication. I refuse to let my fear of disapproval dictate my choices. Today, I start acting independent of the inhibitions of others.

Today is the day I stop waiting.

Today is the day I stop quitting.

Today is the day I stop lowering my expectations.

And today is the day I begin living again.

Because I have been given much and it is ridiculous that I have wasted my privilege and my power to live in comfort rather than to help others into better lives. I have the ability and the opportunity to make a good and lasting difference in the world. I don’t want to waste the lifetime of chances that I have. Today is the day that I start living into the rhetoric of my soul.

And tomorrow is that day too.