So as spring turns to summer, and summer to fall, I slowly surrender the meaning-full bliss of student teaching to the world of a memory, and take on my new hat of Invisible Children, with as much courage and surefootedness as I can muster - all the while tinged with a bit of sadness for the days gone by.
Today as I was in my room, drinking coffee [thinking that it would calm my nerves in the same way that tea is said to] I suddenly remembered a perfectly overwhelming and yet somehow serene moment. Eight months ago, I was sitting on the doorstep of my apartment in the mountains, eating a box of popsicles in the summer sunshine, because I couldn't take another moment of trying to pack two years of my life into a tiny car, and because I didn't know what else to do. Inside the apartment, to my back, was a living room full of various things, collected from various places at various times, things that up until this point had made up a large part of my existence. Blankets, clothes, kitchen appliances, posters, photos. And in front of me, nothing but the cool breeze and the sight of a mountain, so much larger than life. And little did I know, in that very moment, that everything truly would be alright. For now. And yet, in so many ways, it wasn't. For a while.
Life is cyclical, in the most magical of ways. We receive a message from the world [from this world, mind you, and yet there are so many more] and all too often, we believe it. Maybe it's true. Maybe it's not. Is it good for you? I don't know.
All this to say that today, as I woke up immediately in a panic and proceeded to find little ways to distract my mind and attempt to put a band-aid on my spirit, I remembered feeling the same way, so many moments ago - somewhere in a foreign world that is somehow out of reach. For now. And yet - there it was - alive and real, for a fleeting beating of the heart.
Life is also beautiful, in the most tragic and terrible of ways. You know how people sometimes say things like "I miss you terribly"? Isn't it terrible to miss someone? Absolutely terrible, and in the same moment, completely and purely beautiful. The same with life, I think. Sometimes beauty makes me cry. Things that are terrible, things that are beautiful, they move deeply in the spirit.
All this to say that a lot of things are really terrifying, and then they are okay, because they keep moving. Things happen time and again, and we grow (we hope) and we change (we think) and we move (we do).
New Year's Resolution: Be Patient, Ophelia. Do not forget.
Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.” [Isaiah 30:21]
If you're unhappy, pray. Even if you're happy.
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