Filled With Purpose

I was struck by this concept in my final reading of the semester that is worthy of some deep reflection. Annnd since you know I'm all about the deep reflection, here we go. The idea is that we both praise and fear the individual. On one hand, their individuality, their independence, their ability to live outside of conventions is admirable. The way they are able to stand up for their beliefs, speak out when they feel attacked, start conversations and seek social interaction in a genuine way, these are all desirable qualities worthy of recognition. They are what most people wish they could be. They are what I wish I could be.

Yet, while we admire their characteristics, we avoid and reject their advances. We want them to do their thing, just not around us. They stand out, and we make sure they know it by the way we chose not to acknowledge them.

"It's cool that people are able to talk and interact with strangers, just not with me."

"What will other people think if they see me talking to this guy?"

"What does he want from me? Whatever it is, I'll just ignore him until he gets the message."

As beings that are social in nature and necessity we are disgustingly antisocial in practice, depriving ourselves of nourishment and the opportunity for growth at the cost of (anti)social conventions. For me, it is nervous, anxious fear. Paralysis. This is a powerful adversary. We teach our kids to fear strangers out of our own fear. How can I love the neighbour I'm supposed to be afraid of? In all truth, I am excessively afraid.

Will I ever be like the people I'm afraid of? In the hopes that I may show the world what we are needlessly afraid of, I hope so. I need to become fearless of the unconventional, and fearful of the ever-present paralysis silencing my heart and mechanically powering the limited motions of my body. This is a worthwhile struggle.

Of the extremely few things I hate, I do hate small-talk. The bridge to my goal, shaky and full of painful memories, must be crossed and not looked back upon. It starts with an unfamiliar handshake and becomes a loving embrace. I AM a social being, being isolated is not an option. Silence is crippling and loneliness is death. As a man surrounded by water, refusing to drink, I am depriving myself of life. The chance to be refreshed and renewed should be endlessly pursued. I shall forever drink my fill.

And when I have no strength or will to drink, I will again find myself afloat in a river of life, drowning by my own stubborn, selfish-born fears. Solitude is my weakness, community my purpose, selfless love, my motivation. Finally, community is not an achievement. It is not fulfilled, completed, or brought to an end. I must not allow myself to stop, to grow complacent or comfortable with my work. Only is the end a time for reflection. Life requires endless effort, cessation is surrender. My life is not mine alone, and shall never be lived as though it were.

Mirrorly sharing my thoughts.

Why do some of the simplest things feel so difficult? It's as though there's this constant inner struggle going on, a battle of wills, in which what should happen, and what is happening are at odds. I know how to act, I know what to do, I know what I should be doing, and yet here I am in the moment of struggle, here I am in the time of turmoil; here I am in a self-decided isolation. The choices I make are but a drop in a bucket to me, and yet from an outside perspective, all that's visible are the ripples of my decisions. Each second that passes, a wave of judgement strikes on every possible choice. Not only are my choices scrutinized, but my methods, my attitude, my whole physical representation. This is the unseen reaction to each and every act I do. Not only me, but for everyone around me. When I look upon you, without speaking or even making eye contact, I begin this process. Since it's unacknowledged, I suppose it can be easily denied, but I'm not going to deny it. Where do I go from here, though? What do I do once I'm aware of the influence of the insignificancies? If my hair, clothes, and musical preference is being judged, what does that say about the depth of judgement my character receives?

Now this is where I deviate from current themes in my writing, as this isn't something limited to people with a religion or set of beliefs. Those who hold their beliefs close may feel this struggle pull a little tighter as they are reminded of how to be universally accepting, but nobody is free of error. Here's my ideal; my personal epitome of universal acceptance, and my image of what an accepting life needs to look like. I want to live in a world without mirrors.

Yeah, you heard me, no mirrors. Where might this get us? Well, for starters, we'd probably have a lot more car accidents and food in our teeth. But hey, I mean, the world can't be PERFECT. If you've taken my consideration to heart, and began thinking of the other absurd flaws that this world might bring with it, toss that to the side for a second. We rely on the mirror. Why? "I need to look perfect". I think it, would never dare say it, but I think it.

I double-triple-quadruple check before leaving the house, and in doing so spend more time fixing my hair than repairing the broken relationships I live with. I run by my family as I speed out of the house, (late), thinking not of how I shouldn't have said those horrible things, but instead of that piece of hair that wouldn't fall properly.

I arrive at my destination extremely conscious of the presence of mirrors all around me. My reflection is painstakingly crafted, yet picked apart in seconds by its presence in the eyes of my peers. Without uttering a word, their stares tell me everything I'm doing wrong, and all the ways I'll never be able to fix it. Their appearances, behaviours, words, and gestures reflect nothing of my personage and I am made blatantly aware of how horribly I stick out. That one piece of hair that wouldn't go down.

I wander about feeling smaller and smaller until I find a way to look more like the mirrors around me, and less like myself. I change, I adapt. In doing this, everything about me becomes lost, as I finally manage to get that bit of hair to come down. However, in doing so, I become more of a mirror through which other's find their flaws. I stop focussing on my values and greater beliefs as I become an object in this perpetual game of judgement. At least among a room of mirrors and surface appearances I don't stand out, not anymore. Plus, a mirror can't reflect the stuff that doesn't show, so what importance can it really have anyways? If I throw it aside, I can become more like the rest of them, and I can fit in.

This scenario, I would say with confidence, is somewhat like what I've gone through in school. Man, I knew what everyone else liked more than I knew what I liked. I wasn't mean, not in any direct way, but I had such a potential to be nice. Philosophy, for me, was a giant hammer, smashing mirrors all around me and waking me up to what really mattered. But regardless of how I broke out of the cycle, one thing I learned was that in a room full of mirrors, there's no place for self-reflection. (Awww yeah, wicked pun). But seriously, those mirrors just got in the way. So now and for as long as I live, I hope to live in a world without mirrors. I'll replace them with the people around me, and stare deeply into the needs of others, devoting my time to something much deeper than appearances.

So what are you waiting for? Grab a hammer...

Happy (upcoming) Christmas, leave a comment if you feel like letting me know you've stopped by, it's always nice to know who's sharing my thoughts. That's not too needy-sounding is it? Cause I scratched out my original I need love slogan. Ha, cheers.

Lift it up.

It's so easy to understand my strength if I remember that You're right there with me. Without You, my weakness was overwhelming. Mind-numbingly, heart-stoppingly, world-shakingly overwhelming. Everybody in pain and suffering seems to want to compare hurt, "you think that's bad, I had..." and so on. I've been in a place of pain, no greater or worse. Not meant for comparison, just simply there and felt deeply. There's no gain in weighing it out, it just hurt, and it was substantial enough to overwhelm me. Pain has a funny way of creeping up on you when you're not able to deal with it; when it can win. It never shows up amongst those who can help, it never comes out when it can be cured; it simply works in shadows and silences waiting to strike a vulnerable heart. That is, if you're waiting for your pain to strike.

Lift it up. One of those weird phrases I've heard repeated in many contexts and I've never really connected with it in hearing it alone. Are you saying I should, elevate my hurt? Like, closer to the roof type thing? Like, slow the blood flow, like, a medical situation? Or perhaps I dropped something on my foot, so I should lift it off there? I never really connected with this phrase. Fully stated, lift it up to God. Again, so vague to me, so unspecific. God's all around me, why do I need elevation? Can't He come down here to come take away my pains? Why do I need to be lifted up to Him? Why do I have to do the work? As I said, it's never really something I understood from a spectator's shoes.

Then I lifted it up. I finally got it. It's not about anything other than saying, God, there is this hurt, this pain, this anxiety, this worry, this fear, this doubt, this overwhelming, crippling, crushing woe that I can't deal with alone. For me, this hurt has looked many ways. Before I knew Him so dearly, "I'm alone, and I hate to feel lonely. I have nobody, no friends, nobody and life is overwhelming." Crying out without direction or even knowledge I was being heard. Before I even knew what I was doing, I was lifting it up. It didn't take faith, it took desperation, and He heard me.

More recently, in a moment of indecision, when life presented me with two paths and an unwillingness to stay the course of destruction and self-abuse "I need a change. I need something to change in my life. I hate what I'm doing, who I'm becoming, and the fact that my life is the result of the expectations of others. Please, give me a way to change." In a time of sheer frustration, a plea for help emerged, and I lifted it up. Again, to a God whom I was unfamiliar with. A murky face in a distant place, a possibility. To Him, I lifted it up.

And finally, just tonight. Fully aware of God, fully aware of what He's been doing in my life, and how He has been there for me before. Fully aware that though I've hurt, it's never been too much to bear, and never stopped me from seeking Him. Conscious of all this, tonight I lifted up the lives of those around me in prayer. With so much hurt and brokenness spilling out all around, coming from me and those I love, I lifted it up. My knowledge of God doesn't make this time any different, it doesn't guarantee a quick fix or a reserve space in the prayer line-up. All it does is give me that chance to face pain, to attack it head on. I've waited for desperation in the past. It has been torture enduring something as it festers deep within, just waiting for it to strike in those moments of weakness. Not anymore. Tonight, I lifted it up.

Hiya Friends

What do you call it when you are so busy that you put off procrastinating? I call it blogging.

Let's find a subject. We could chat about ASD, but then this would be like that paper I'm supposed to be writing. No fun for anyone, eh? Anyways, in an effort to update the distant world of far-off possible plans for the distant future, I've decided to share some information. This, I also call blogging.

That's enough light introductory notice, methinks. You know what's disturbing? A lack of deep conversation. In reflection last night, I realized that I've gone something like 90% of my life in superficial conversation. With all the talks and encounters that I've had, I've stayed afloat in safe waters. So much time is spent concealing thoughts, feelings, beliefs, and for what? To be polite, perhaps, but manners shouldn't limit the capacity to share and be heard. We wonder why people can become so immersed into pseudonyms and internet aliases without considering the people we create for ourselves in everyday life. I know I used to be so divided as a person that everything about me would shift with company; I took pride in my ability to adapt. Now, I'm so sad to think that I ever enjoyed a lack of integrity. Of course, the core never feels like it changes, one always feels as though the self is maintained, but so much of every interaction chip away at what is being concealed. Honour, integrity, dignity, these things are non-compromising and yet faced with compromise in light of duality and peer pressures. Worst of all, I feel powerless in intervening with the process of one who doesn't want to listen. Had someone tried to change me back when I was younger, they'd have had to have massive influence on me to even come close. Tough business to stand by and watch these things happen.

But yes, ranting like an old man, here I go again. I wonder what it feels like to live outside of the cycles of life. Not outside the circle of life; that thing is important. But the cycles of convention and normalcy. I don't desire to build a hut in the bushes, or do I? I don't know, something perspective changing I suppose would be great. I think this is why I prefer to cut my hair short, grow it long, grow a beard, whatever. People always ask what I'm going to do when I make some weird change, and I never have an answer. I suppose I wish to just ignore the fact that I'm making changes at all, as those physical changes are almost invisible to me until someone says something. I want my life to be about more than the physical details, I want to live a life of devotion to something greater. Believe me, I know the hypocrisy in saying this and then shopping at a mall, wearing name brands, and buying new technology, but I never said it'd be something I can do flawlessly. I WANT to get outside convention, to look beyond the distraction of consumer lights, and if I can find a way to start, I want to start. If I can follow a cause from a far removed position by clicking "like" on facebook and consider that enough, I need a wakeup call. That "like" is a dangerous button when it makes me feel as though one click is enough, and there's no reason to go deeper. It is for these reasons, that I dislike the like. If you're with me, try to start doing what you'd like, and try to stop just liking what you would do.

The Race

I need to get away, but bring the world with me.
Running's never been my strong suit, and problems keep a steady pace.
The fact that I am in a perfect place and still feeling lost,
means my body needs the Spirit to join with me in the race.

Laced up, lonliness welcomes isolation,
it's easier to run when you're feeling chased.
At that point it's no longer about the destination,
but instead about the extent you'll go for a taste.

Cause bitterness in bits is a welcomed sting,
and for a moment's joy, you'll risk a lifetime of loss,
Carrying aftertaste with the guilt of its cost,
it's more than your own, it's His life that you've lost.

Fearing failure, I decide never to run,
in submission, I fall right down on my face.
Aware that I'm failing, regretting what's done,
In forgiveness, He tells me to start running His race.