Committing to the hygeneine hypotheses and pointed orange sticks

I wrote a couple posts while in South Carolina and instead of each one getting a post I figured I’d just mass them all here.

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Darkness – Feb. 15

There’s something about darkness. Like the finale of scrubs. A sense that because you can’t see it, anything could be out there. Anything is still kind of possible. Is that what’s so romantic about the night?

What a blessing its becoming to be alone. There’s still heart tugging and things I’d just like to talk to people about like how the toilets were subversive and flushes automatically every couple minutes (which always makes you fear back splash) or just to hear how people are. But at the same time I see myself going to prayer and praying for things like new comm and my DG boys individually, things that I haven’t really been able to do well before. I know in a couple hours I’ll have access to a laptop and it kind of changes but at the same time….not really.

It’s also been a while since I threw on music and just listened to it. Nobody hears the voice of God and mistakes it for a mortal’s thoughts.

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Sojourner – Feb. 16

It was our second day or first at the house. I’m used to writing these in a journal but it’ll probably be overall easier to just type it. Being in the old testament for a while, the sojourner was always repeated. Be kind and gracious to the sojourner because you were once sojourners. Repeated a lot. It has a lot to do with the idea of temporary. I think the initial trigger was the fact that I live in the living room and every morning I pack up my sleeping stuff and it all goes into a corner to get taken out again. It’s actually a bit exciting because it means I’ll pretty much have to be up first. There’s a kind of beauty in being the first up and it means I’ll get more quiet time with the Lord. But it also reminds me that this very trip is temporary and in the long run, just about everything.

Yesterday got more and more removed as I went through the day. Or maybe it means I’m getting more attached because I want it to matter. I say in that I no longer knew what to say to friends. I got WiFi for one last time at 3am and although I got some enjoyable snapchats, some goodbyes, I didn’t know what really to say. I just couldn’t sustain small talk. And part of it stems from the feeling that I might just leave at the end of this year. What do I want to say to people? How do I want to really end? When all the small talk peels away and I’m left with one more opportunity. I started thinking up letters to write. I romanticize writing a lot. Truth is, it probably won’t be the very last time I say anything to anyone. But still. My thoughts seem kind of cyclic at this point.

//The trip is going well. We were a little over budget for the Costco trip but nothing too drastic. For the most part it is going well and despite not knowing many of them very well I am at least cordial with all. Sometimes I wonder who I will hang out with tomorrow but I am starting to lose that kind of feeling. Maybe it’s the slipping of group identity from child health.

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Fried food and indecision – Feb. 17

It’s funny how such simple blocks of wood cut into similar shapes and weights can be so tantalizing.
It’s bed now but the struggle is a bit different now. What does it mean to be light? Because it’s easy for me to be free and random and sassy and generally people find me entertaining. But of what value is that to them? Am I a conduit of the Lord and His love? How can I be salt and light, preserving the it. Apart from just speaking against drinking and lewd behavior….what do I bring?
In much lesser significantly news I bought clothes though fueled by some strong indecision. And I ate lots of fried food at sticky fingers. I was also compared to donkey from shrek. It’s not a new comparison though it goes back to what light I bring. And….I have continually less time than I imagine myself to.

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 Markings in the sand – Feb.18

I took this picture after I came to the realization that I was leaving no footprints. The sand was so stiff that my shoes barely sunk in. I barely left a mark. I find Folly Beach has tended to make me go into some crazy philosophical adventure. As I walked along the shore I was pitted with the same conundrum as I think I always have. I wanted to reach the end of the beach, to just get there. I realized part of it was getting to a place that nobody else was but moreso to a place that I hadn’t gotten. But at the same time I wanted to sit. To sit on estranged, cut up wooden cross sections and gaze out, listening to the cataclysmic waves crash upon the shore. To watch the seagulls just sit there despite having their bottom feathers wet continually. And the dilemma was catalyzed by the fact that I also wanted to find shells and since my first year seeing someone scoring a sea dollar, its always been something I look for. And as surface as this situation is, it displays my own long term internal struggle. I don’t want to stop and rest even though I should because I’m so scared that I will miss out on something better. And you can’t have both because there is a time limit. As much as we say it in child health, time is an enemy. As fault in our stars would say it, time screws everyone.
So isn’t that the theme of this year? Running and being scared to stop. And then scared that what I do won’t make a difference. But that’s also just a true thing. In the large scheme of things, we don’t make all that much of a difference and it’s okay to see that. Despair does not happen for all who see the end.
They say third time is the charm. I see no charm in the third time. I feel like if I read my reflection from last year about the beach…it might be actually more joyful. This probably reads like a really depressing post. But I think as I get older it’s just that sense of knowing I’m really not as awesome or that I have as much as I thought I did. While this sentiment alone is dangerous, it expounds more the craziness of God’s love and patience for us.