My 200th blog entry...
Do you ever wonder if you were created for something special? I mean something unique to just you? Something that no one else can do, feeling something no one else can sense? Living a life only you can live and seeing your surroundings in such a way that no one else can fully relate? Do you ever just sense that your instincts just move you toward things that you can’t really explain to others? Certain proclivities that sit outside of reason, outside of mere logic? Do you ever house thoughts that you wonder where they came from and why your sub-conscious won’t just leave you alone with little questions that mock easy answers? Do you ever wish for things that you know you can’t have, yet find so much joy in the wishing that it’s almost like you enjoy wishing more than having. Like C.S. Lewis wrote, “Our best havings are wantings”. It’s like you have more than you could ever want, when you want more than you could ever have. And it doesn’t find it’s origin in discontent, it’s more like an inconsolable secret or something beautiful inside us that sets us apart from the rest of creation.
Do you ever wonder how much of your brain you’re actually tapping into? Like there is so much more that you were created to mull over and master and mess around with than you’re giving your mind credit for? It’s like life is pregnant with possibility and you’re strolling through it unaware and un-amused. I’m sure it stems from some form of depreciation…a reduced estimation of what it is we are, and what it is we are capable of experiencing. Appreciating life is so much more than thanking God for the air you breathe or the health you enjoy…it’s looking at the intricate design in things and reveling in the complexity of those otherwise ordinary objects. It’s letting your eyes survey the whole of an object absorbing the infinitesimal nuances of texture and consistency in a thing. Even more profound is the exceptional nature of another human being. To show up in a conversation with antenna raised and probes poised. To take in language mixed with tone and timing allowing it to hit your body, then mind, then soul. This exchange is nothing short of marvelous, a brushing against the miraculous. Every human heart distinct and yet universal. Every word common and yet strung together peculiarly. Peoples hairlines and facial creases, one of a kind. A person’s body language and responses to silence or sound, exquisite and exceptional. A person’s story, well, need I even mention that no two are alike. This is what makes life green and growing. This is what makes mornings new and days divine. And to listen to the soul when words are not sufficient, that is priceless indeed. Humans are walking art forms, rare art forms all bunched together with other rare art forms. From biological inexplicabilities to spiritual gravities…they stand apart, alone.
But how easy it is to clump ourselves all together in an effort to simplify our lives. This reductionism tends to sterilize life and paralyze the capacities of the human spirit, in my opinion. I suffer from this disease (if this is what you want to call it) as well. I want to typecast and profile just like everyone else. It frees up more time for me to watch T.V. and not be bothered by the injustices that envelope me in this world. I can plan much better when I keep “wonder” at a distance and domesticate my wild stirrings. But this must be some of what God was saying when he said, “We’re always learning but never being able to comprehend the truth.” To pack our heads with facts and figures and yet never move toward the truth, the truth of what unadulterated life really is. We employ systemic strategies and miss the meaning. We embrace movies and avoid people. We love books and loathe our own life story (an important tale for sure).
There is nothing so fascinating and adventurous as the story of one’s life. The plot is thick with suspense. Moments of truth are all over the place. Defining decisions that shape the drama replete throughout the history of our lives…and what’s more, they are yet to come in the seconds to follow your cursory reflection of the past. This story is written and being written as your lungs inhale and exhale. As your blood absorbs oxygen and distributes it to muscle and skin and bone. As your eyes dart to and fro burning images into your retina like a high powered camera. All the while, we as humans sit idly by and curse ourselves with complacency. The adventure is happening and we’re waiting for it to start. All because we don’t appreciate what it is we have, who it is we are. Godlings, I tell you. We are the offspring of the Creator. The image-bearers of Deity Himself. We are nothing less that walking reflections of the Infinite. This has got to mean something.
Do you ever find yourself pestered with ideas that come out of nowhere? When this happens to me I immediately resort to condemning myself for “thinking too much”. But it’s what I love most about being human. I heard it said one time that “the heart has its reasons that reason knows nothing of.” I think this is true. Most of the time, this underworld is reminding me of something I tend to forget. That life is a gift, a matchless treasure to be valued and held in the highest regard. It is teeming with elaborate, though obscure details that won’t be seen by a soul needing to get somewhere fast. They won’t be experienced by a hurried heart. They wait for the slowpoke who stops along the way to attribute value to life. The stargazer, the rubbernecked tourist who can’t take in enough sights and sounds wanting to catch and carry each experience storing it away as a memory. These are the persons most alive, most awake, afoot and astir with open eyes and ears. I want to stay this way…even if it does seem a bit silly to say so.
I live in a relatively small world, doing things of little consequence in the light of the universe and it’s goings on. But I find inside myself a desire limited only by my imagination…a longing that invites me to pass into the other side. “Further up, and further in” as Lewis calls it. This ache evokes such a stab of joy that at times I can hardly bear it. I felt it in the coffee shop just this morning…it sent chills through my body. I mean never to lose this sensation, this touch of heaven, this draw towards the beyond, the beneath. It’s there that I find most of the best things in life…just below the surface. The writing of this indescribable essence is a joy in itself. If I could pass anything on to someone…it would be this offering.
Do you ever wonder how much of your brain you’re actually tapping into? Like there is so much more that you were created to mull over and master and mess around with than you’re giving your mind credit for? It’s like life is pregnant with possibility and you’re strolling through it unaware and un-amused. I’m sure it stems from some form of depreciation…a reduced estimation of what it is we are, and what it is we are capable of experiencing. Appreciating life is so much more than thanking God for the air you breathe or the health you enjoy…it’s looking at the intricate design in things and reveling in the complexity of those otherwise ordinary objects. It’s letting your eyes survey the whole of an object absorbing the infinitesimal nuances of texture and consistency in a thing. Even more profound is the exceptional nature of another human being. To show up in a conversation with antenna raised and probes poised. To take in language mixed with tone and timing allowing it to hit your body, then mind, then soul. This exchange is nothing short of marvelous, a brushing against the miraculous. Every human heart distinct and yet universal. Every word common and yet strung together peculiarly. Peoples hairlines and facial creases, one of a kind. A person’s body language and responses to silence or sound, exquisite and exceptional. A person’s story, well, need I even mention that no two are alike. This is what makes life green and growing. This is what makes mornings new and days divine. And to listen to the soul when words are not sufficient, that is priceless indeed. Humans are walking art forms, rare art forms all bunched together with other rare art forms. From biological inexplicabilities to spiritual gravities…they stand apart, alone.
But how easy it is to clump ourselves all together in an effort to simplify our lives. This reductionism tends to sterilize life and paralyze the capacities of the human spirit, in my opinion. I suffer from this disease (if this is what you want to call it) as well. I want to typecast and profile just like everyone else. It frees up more time for me to watch T.V. and not be bothered by the injustices that envelope me in this world. I can plan much better when I keep “wonder” at a distance and domesticate my wild stirrings. But this must be some of what God was saying when he said, “We’re always learning but never being able to comprehend the truth.” To pack our heads with facts and figures and yet never move toward the truth, the truth of what unadulterated life really is. We employ systemic strategies and miss the meaning. We embrace movies and avoid people. We love books and loathe our own life story (an important tale for sure).
There is nothing so fascinating and adventurous as the story of one’s life. The plot is thick with suspense. Moments of truth are all over the place. Defining decisions that shape the drama replete throughout the history of our lives…and what’s more, they are yet to come in the seconds to follow your cursory reflection of the past. This story is written and being written as your lungs inhale and exhale. As your blood absorbs oxygen and distributes it to muscle and skin and bone. As your eyes dart to and fro burning images into your retina like a high powered camera. All the while, we as humans sit idly by and curse ourselves with complacency. The adventure is happening and we’re waiting for it to start. All because we don’t appreciate what it is we have, who it is we are. Godlings, I tell you. We are the offspring of the Creator. The image-bearers of Deity Himself. We are nothing less that walking reflections of the Infinite. This has got to mean something.
Do you ever find yourself pestered with ideas that come out of nowhere? When this happens to me I immediately resort to condemning myself for “thinking too much”. But it’s what I love most about being human. I heard it said one time that “the heart has its reasons that reason knows nothing of.” I think this is true. Most of the time, this underworld is reminding me of something I tend to forget. That life is a gift, a matchless treasure to be valued and held in the highest regard. It is teeming with elaborate, though obscure details that won’t be seen by a soul needing to get somewhere fast. They won’t be experienced by a hurried heart. They wait for the slowpoke who stops along the way to attribute value to life. The stargazer, the rubbernecked tourist who can’t take in enough sights and sounds wanting to catch and carry each experience storing it away as a memory. These are the persons most alive, most awake, afoot and astir with open eyes and ears. I want to stay this way…even if it does seem a bit silly to say so.
I live in a relatively small world, doing things of little consequence in the light of the universe and it’s goings on. But I find inside myself a desire limited only by my imagination…a longing that invites me to pass into the other side. “Further up, and further in” as Lewis calls it. This ache evokes such a stab of joy that at times I can hardly bear it. I felt it in the coffee shop just this morning…it sent chills through my body. I mean never to lose this sensation, this touch of heaven, this draw towards the beyond, the beneath. It’s there that I find most of the best things in life…just below the surface. The writing of this indescribable essence is a joy in itself. If I could pass anything on to someone…it would be this offering.
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