“Dont rush, but hurry up and wait.”

The interesting thing about being human is that we are constantly changing. We are always bettering ourselves, worsening our lives, or fighting to find the balance of life. There never is a point where we can say, “I have arrived.”

On one hand this is nice, but on the other hand it can sometimes leave one feeling broken and worthless. Almost like, “I’ll never be fixed.” Perhaps not so extreme? Maybe it’s just a lingering feeling of being in transition.

That’s what I’ve been feeling over the past few days. Just noticing the seasons of transitions, the different time periods of various events… The seasons of growing. Even the seasons of pain that eventually build a stronger person.

It is the conversation I wish I could forget.

“Please Deanna, I really need to know what you’re thinking right now.”
“Well… You’re getting married. I can’t do anything about that.”

Then the deep voice spoke three words:
“Yes you can.”

I am aware that there are some things that only time can heal. And perhaps eventually those words and his voice will fade… I just need to learn to be patient and keep seeking the face of God.

All I can do now is reach up towards the ceiling and learn to pray that I am built through the pain; that every day becomes a medicine of sorts.

In the words of The Fray, “don’t rush, but hurry up and wait.”

Snowflakes like bullets, light like glass.

(This is a post I wrote a while ago, but the conversation is still vivid in my memory.)

It’s prettier than it has been in a while. Outside is an immaculate, picturesque snow. The wind is blowing at just the perfect angle so that the snowflakes shoot like bullets in a diagonal line from the top left of my window to the lower right corner. All figures against the landscape have faded to dim blue lines, and the lights from the houses down the street are beacons with messages like, “The world has not stopped.” and “There is life! What you are seeing is not just a photograph.” One light in particular seems to wink at me but that is only from the pine branches that interrupt the rays with every gust of wind.

I can hardly see the keys and I have to keep the sleeves of my sweatshirt rolled up otherwise the Anberlin cd I have playing becomes muffled because the speakers are right at my wrists. I could easily turn on a light, but I’m content for the moment with the light coming from my screen.

“Don’t try to wake me up even if the sun really does come out tomorrow. Don’t believe anything you say anymore in the morn–in the morning.” (Alexithymia – Anberlin)

I just spent the last few minutes attempting to explain what I have been thinking about recently. As I said to the person on the other end of the phone line, “These past few weeks have been an interesting journey.” He responded with a deep, “Mmm…” and then effortlessly put into words what I have been trying to verbalize all week.

“It’s like… You’re living inside yourself, and then living as yourself.”

It’s perfectly said (I’m still don’t know how he does that), and yet, this is one of those times where mortal existence comes to a fine point and our feeble words trip and fall somewhere far, far behind.

A good book and a no-name folk band can pause time, but not long enough for time to stop.

January was the prelude, the opening. February was the scene where the story line really began to take place and the characters began free falling into the plot. March? March is almost over. March has been a minute of rest, the whispered conversation of philosophy embedded inside the chaos, and also the moment when you realize that a lot of time passed when you weren’t looking.

Even though you were yawning, a mind was cleared.

I believe I originally heard this idea from Steve Pavlina. The idea that there is no such thing as the “best” decision; there are only good decisions. He proposed the idea of not focusing so much on the “best” situation to be in, but to choose or be in a good situation and then go from there.

Silence set in shortly on the phone. I had too much on my mind, and he was only half awake.

“What if there is no such thing as an ideal situation?”
Another beat.
“I don’t believe there is such thing as an ideal.”
“But we live as though it exists.”

We all live with these little idyllic lives in our heads and we chase them and spend our mind and anxiousness on them… And for what?

That isn’t the point. Granted, you can’t go off and make reckless decisions and expect your life to turn out right… But life is so much less ours than we think. We spend our deepest emotions fighting for the lives that don’t belong to us anyways. I’m realizing that we are not supposed to fit the purpose of life into the boxes of our own lives, but to mold our lives around our true purpose.

“Is there anything else you have been pondering?”
“No, not really. Although this idea is so huge it takes up most of the space.”
“Mmhmm.”
“Though, I am thinking about leaving.”
“Leaving…just to leave?”
“No, not to leave. To go.”

We wait too long. Too long to leave, too long to act, too long to speak. We wait until we feel like we are prepared… But how many died metaphysically and literally while we wait to feel adequate? How many souls run dry and whither while we quibble over the smallest things? We are so sick from anxiousness we try to keep the saliva from dripping out of our mouths and yet we fail to carry out the one task we were given as living things on this crippled rock we live on.

The ones that create change are the ones that take action when the problem needs to be addressed. The ones that get up and move. The only reason I ever wanted to be a nomad is because maybe that way I could shed the skin of aimless living and really drown myself in the true reason for life.

“I wonder why we even bother.”
“With?”
“With… Celebrities, popularity, corporate ladders, political correctness…”

“I have come to the realization that life is more than what I have accomplished.
And life is more then the realization that we have accomplished nothing at all.
True success is so selfless so drown in the lyrics of your life and give up the air that you breathe.
You don’t need anything.”

(Who Needs Air – The Classic Crime)

We’ve gone about this whole idea of living completely in the wrong way. We’ve missed the point. And I’m out to live the point. And this time, I don’t care what that costs.

“You are actually speaking very little of math.”

On one hand, life is a lot like math. On the other hand, life is rarely a formula.

Inasmuch, when the variables and numbers are starting to walk away from the equation and off the page, it is mathematician that needs to retrace their steps to see where they went wrong.

If the problem is not factoring correctly, this is just the time to rewind, and ask the variables where they fit best. Glazing over problems will not solve them.

“Life is not egocentric. Look beyond what you can see.”

If you do not handle the problem correctly, if you do not view your results in the right manner, you will staunch the variables and x, y, and z will be so much less than they ever could be.

You should not expect them to keep quiet for much longer. They will either speak, or disappear and leave a hole in your equation. If they do speak, they will speak of the mathematician. At this point if the mathematician places the blame on the variables, they will cry, reach up their serifs and say, “But we are only variables!”

They are looking for their value. They are in search of their faces. If the mathematician forever accuses them of not finding their faces themselves, how shall they learn to play their proper roles? Of course their journey through the problem is not entirely dependent on the mathematician, but at the beginning of a problem even the variables inside a division problem do not know what to do with themselves. They are to be raised, nutured, cultivated, and cherished so that they learn to find the way through the problem themselves.