As of late, I've been doing more reading than writing. I have random bouts of that it seems.
I recently went to a yard sale and bought, oh, probably 8 books or so. A couple of novels, some philosophy, a history book or two. My biggest challenge is my Humanities textbook. Oh it's interesting... that's the problem. 599 pages bigger than my head, and I'll want to read and psychoanalyze every single one. As fascinated as I am with all of this faddle on the Heroic Age of ancient Greece... there's just no time for it. I have work to do. So much to do!
But a wise friend once told me: "You don't have any more work than He has for you." And He has never given me anything I couldn't handle before... (Oh no, we're not getting into that whole lesson of time management again, are we?)
I should write with purpose if I'm going to write at all. So why am I writing all of this? I never meant for this blog to be a sort of journal. Perhaps a collaboration of thoughts... Perhaps hints of inspiration. Certainly something that will at least get you thinking for a little while. Maybe all of this jumping around is due to my lack of writing as of late.
I've also been reading an old blog of mine from a few years ago. I like to go through things like that from time to time. It's almost like visiting an old friend. Some of the things I wrote, the truths I understood and related with such conviction... is it possible to forget such things? My hope is that when those moments of understanding take place and then flutter away, that somehow they took root in my soul though they've left my present and immediate consciousness. That they are tucked away deep in my heart. Written. Carved into my very being.
My last journal entry before I left for Israel says, "The girl who writes on the next page might not be the same girl who wrote on this one... or perhaps a more realized version of her... or a renewed and transformed one."
I'm only hoping that happened. That something took root. Maybe I just have to water it (or let it be watered), and it will soon bloom into something.
I don't feel any different, but it's not about feelings anyway, is it? I have never felt different. As years have gone by I have been me, though my understanding deepens and my knowledge grows. My essence remains.
I am beginning to feel like Israel wasn't the beginning or ending of anything. Though the sun set in the picture above, my last snapshot of the Holy Land, it hasn't set on this season. (Though this season is beginning to feel like a winter in the Arctic Circle. Or is it summer?) What I mean is, it seems to be a transition... or something. A shift of sorts. A realignment, maybe. I don't know yet. I'm still trying to figure it out.
Because it's been a different kind of challenge. Not a struggle, not a breeze. It's like a meandering twist of unexpected turns rather than a horizontal movement. And I'm wondering how many pages I have to go in this chapter until it starts making sense.
But oh, the paradox of me! How I love a mystery.
3 comments:
Oh my goodness..I love your posts so much!!
I must say I absolutely understand exactly what you are talking about. Transition has enveloped me lately. It is somewhat reassuring but also daunting; in that perfection of confusion, there is understanding but also questions..
Anyways, I loved what you said about your essence never changing, but your wisdom and understanding deepens. Such a beautiful thought because in the midst of great change, it is so easy to feel as though one has lost who they were in the beginning.
Thank you for your beautiful thoughts. Keep sharing :)
an inspired journey! sounds like its a narrow path.
My love, it was never the destination, but the journey. He is not done with you yet. This is only a lick to the lollipop He has for you; you won't be able to savor it, just taste a glimpse of His plans unfolding.
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