I created this blog several weeks ago because I wanted to have my own little space to go and dump the simple whims that my mind comes up with. A place to post three word blogs of excitement or desperation, pictures I find comforting, long rambles of emotion, things I have to say to God, cool quotes and websites… just things that kind of emulate the kind of person I am and the kinds of things I find most beautiful about life.
I write a lot and mind dump in the middle pages of notebooks and the backs of theater programs and pieces of paper I pull out of recycling bins. I let my thoughts fly free in those places and in long word documents that would confuse anyone trying to read them.
This isn’t the place for all of that stuff. A lot of that, you don’t need to know. And a lot of it, if you do want to know, I would much rather tell you about when you can look in my eyes and read what I have to say in my touch and in my silence. I really long to be heard and understood, but that can’t come through blog posts. I do like to write though, and I believe that maybe I can share small pieces of myself here that might somehow open you to a new understanding of some small aspect of life.
Anyway, if you’re at all familiar with A.A. Milne’s Winnie the Pooh, you’ll probably remember how Christopher Robin and all of the stuffed creatures would gather together on a little wooden bridge and play that game where they dropped sticks off one side of the bridge, and raced to the other side to see whose would come out first. I’ve always loved that game, and I think it’s a great picture of beautiful simplicity – it’s a game that necessitates the involvement of other people, it doesn’t hinder the environment in any way, and though you can put careful thought into which stick you choose and where you drop it, it is the water that is in charge of bringing it to the other side. And ultimately, it’s more about the enjoyment of the game with friends than winning.
I kind of view life to be simple like that. Life is best lived when you do it with others, treat the earth you’re living on as home, and do your best without taking on the burden of the way everything turns out. God is the one that strings our story together.
It’s ironic that I am writing my first blog post for a blog whose aim is to refocus on simplicity because I’m not feeling very simple right now. I don’t know how to fully explain myself because I myself do not understand all of the things happening inside of me, which is often the case, but lately I’ve been in a downward spiral. I have so many thoughts and feelings and so much desire and brokenness trapped inside of me with limited time and limited space to process any of it and limited people who have limited time and space to support me.
This feeling of being trapped and bound by time and expectations and things that I don’t understand has been growing larger inside of me for awhile now, and for the past week, I’ve just felt like running away to a place where I can be completely alone so that I can do nothing, see no one, and just surrender to what is inside of me, letting it run wild.
These things in my mind and heart are so strong that I am physically aching. My soul is just writhing on the inside. I can’t think of another word that describes this hurt better than a real, deep aching.
I don’t completely know why I feel this now or what has changed in my life between a month ago and this moment, but I feel different and I’m exploring this season of seeking inner solitude in a life surrounded by people who want me to be happy and expect me to do so much. I am trying to learn how to let go of the optimism I hold onto out of fear of what happens if I let it go. I am trying to be okay with not meeting everyone’s expectations and hopes for me.
This place of life that I’m in now is hard and it hurts, but I cannot help but notice a tiny flicker of hopefulness that sits inside me – that says there is good in all of this, that says I will learn new depths of trust, simplicity and joy if I let myself go to be present to the hurt and let it purge me and wash me out.
God moves even in the darkest of places. And I’m starting to notice that as God weaves my story together, the dark places are some of the most integral and beautiful threads.
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