A beautiful essayist by the name of Brian Doyle described writing as a form of contemplation and a form of prayer. These words, taken from the tip of my tongue, couldn't be any more true. For me, at least. It helps me unburden myself. It's a house whose walls are made of words, of which, I feel a certain privacy to them, and then it is also a way of announcing to the world (a small world yes, but my world anyhow). It's my retreat, my wilderness, where my imaginations and my thoughts are free to run wild without the feeling that someone may not enjoy them as much as I do.
Nevertheless, it's becoming extremely important for me to write,
and more importantly, to chronicle my thoughts. Indulge me as I chronicle my stories, and what happens thereafter, will you?...
This past weekend my friends and I went to see this gift of a musician, David Bazan. It was such a good show with such good people, where the evening was filled with honest music and good conversations, where listening, if it was ever a chore for you, became something more of a pleasure and a rest. It was beautiful, a kiss of blessing I'd been needing, complete with a sweet pause, framed by these rich rich rich words: stability is a myth.
From there, whatever might have followed after, my mind couldn't stop tossing these four simple words. And even in the middle of the set, when an open forum was made out of a five minute break between songs, the conversation between audience and beloved artist echoed again those four words.
One question that was thrown out was, "Do you have any regrets within your career as a musician?" Such a weighty question that pulled and gathered much anticipation over his response. We wanted to know his journey, to be told that this gig is hard shit, but it's worth the labor. We wanted to be told that what desires, coupled with what is hard, is what gives the greatest satisfaction. Or maybe, quite possibly, what desires that are pursued wholeheartedly is what gives the greatest satisfaction, irrelevant of what hardships might come.
True. Stability, such is a myth. No life is safe from sorrow nor trial, or pain. And as a result of a year of being in a relationship, and it coming to an end, I'm understanding this a little more. (yes. I said it. and i'm making it public. I am no longer in a relationship. oh twenty-two years of always understanding a little more than just before, but never will I ever arrive at Understanding. Making sense of what is is a mystery unveiling ). I've been grieving, yes, and then I've been beholding some crazy silver line of a revelation. One that is completely freeing.
As a resolution to this failed relationship*, I am allowing myself one year to fail.
You heard me. I'm taking one year to fail. To fail miserably- of putting into action what dreams and concepts and ideals I've piled up for myself. I'm giving myself one year to be brave. There is much to be had in this world, and I want to be apart of it.
A muslim poet wrote, "Let the beauty we love be what we do. There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground." I heard a sermon once on the posture of worship that parrots this verse and leads me in a chorus. The man described worship as bowing low, kissing the dust, returning to the place from which we came from, dust. Because that place is where the origin of our intention was knit together. This is my exploit: returning to my origin as I let the beauty I love be what I do. This will be me, bowing low, and leading a life that no longer suppresses the woman I was made to be. No more suppressing my secret desires and dreams. No more. And if it takes a year to fail, then failing I will.
So as a start, I'm going on this journey of religiously chronicling and blogging every story that comes my way, most especially my failures, because friends, I'm living one hell of an adventure. Here's to vulnerability and confession! Here's to practicing a kind of honesty I hardly practice for fear of being found out!
Join me, please! And pray for me too! hahah I am walking into a season of experiential knowing. And I will be living to tell of it. Believe you me. It will be a long-winded, if not unending, thrill of experientially knowing the goodness and wildness of my God, who orchestrates and orders every chaos into a heap of ashes from which beauty is surely to sprout from. How does a good God do that?!
Jesus, hold me to this.
*I want to clarify: I wouldn't qualify my past relationship as a failure. It's been a thing of grace and mercy. I have been allowed to see more clearly where I am, and where I'm supposed to be, and likewise, he too sees this for himself incaseyouwerewondering
ps. Friends, logistically, I realize I've been a bit obscure as to how this year will pan out. And that's half the fun really. Details on the plans I'm scheming will be disclosed in up-coming posts!
cool.
ReplyDelete