a wide open field


I wrote a post and then I deleted it, but if you subscribe to this blog it probably posted in your reader anyway.

The post wasn't anything original or controversial or all-that thought-provoking . . .  it just wasn't me.  When I read it I knew it didn't sound like me, and then when Jim read it he said, Yeah it doesn't really sound like you.  So I hit delete.  Only, in the internet world nothing dies but lives on into infinity.

I think what makes me uncomfortable with the post isn't the fear of offending someone (I don't think it would offend anyone), or the fear of publishing a dumb post, but the grating sense that I am trying to be someone I'm not.

Because I am learning, like my friend Misha described so well:
Say no to what doesn’t feel right (even if you can’t explain why yet) and fight for what does (even when it scares you to death.)It's freedom. And also trust. It’s living in a wide open field where anything can be built and new things, never before discovered, will be seen.
Finally I can recognize that wearisome, awkward feeling as being a me that doesn't exist; a self I am trying to fit into that pinches and pulls in places.

But the feeling of sprouting wings?  That sense of losing awareness of space and time, of chasing talking rabbits?  This is freedom.  This is to be deeply alive.

It is too bad that it takes us so long to find these wings, and even longer to learn how to use them.  It's too bad that we waste so much time feeling awkward and afraid, trying to be somebody else.

Last night I was fretting to Jim about writing and life, and finally he said, "Don't pay attention to the message or what you are trying to say.  Just listen to the rhythm of the words."

And I remember that this is the secret to writing- the secret to living: to be in rhythm . . . to be in step with the Spirit.  That is all.  We do not know what God is doing or where we are being led; we do not even know really what we are trying to say. But we are paying attention to the quiet voice within.

 I can recognize by now within me consolation and desolation; what feels like life, and what feels like the absence of life.  I love to write because it helps me to clarify those voices; to sort out whether I am acting out of my true, redeemed self, or a false self.

Misha described this kind of living it as a wide open field.  I couldn't agree more.


Let those who fear the LORD say:
   “His love endures forever.”
 5 When hard pressed, I cried to the LORD;
   he brought me into a spacious place.
6 The LORD is with me; I will not be afraid.
   What can mere mortals do to me?
Psalm 118:4-6

We who try our best to live, why do we not live more?
-Vincent VanGogh

Comments

Fijufic said…
I want to add my dear friend that you are a lovely human being. I suppose this is not going to shock you but your loved ones and to a lesser extent your readers recognize that you are not perfect.

Guess what?

They love you even more for it.

The human existence is filled with wonder and doubts. If you are going down a weird road it is perfectly fine to make a u turn and start again.

Nobody is judging you and if they are then let them....You are you and that is that...

Cheers,
Bobby

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