Can't hitch a meteorite

When I was younger and couldn't fall asleep at night, I would pretend that my bed was a spaceship. It had a dome over it so that I could breathe, and it was simply furnished, containing only a Nintendo with Super Mario and a machine that made tacos. This was all I needed for a journey however many light-years long. So, I would sit up at the edge of my bed and play Super Mario on the imaginary Nintendo, and then I would take a break to eat a taco from the taco machine and look out of the dome at all the stars passing by. I would wonder, am I there yet? How much longer will I sit in my bed-bubble-spaceship playing Super Mario and eating tacos? But I never had a destination in mind.

It must have been a time travel spaceship because I always ended up in the next morning.

The world surrounds us every day

We returned from our traditional trip out to Appleton for Thanksgiving. I love going out to Western Minnesota. At the same time, the small towns out there make me feel...I'm not sure if claustrophobic is the right word because you can see for miles. If anything, it makes me feel as if I'm going to fly off the face of the earth. Anxious is perhaps the word I'm looking for. Everything feels stuck in the past, tired, forgotten. Forgotten things make me uncomfortable, I think.

This makes me wonder--am I really someone who needs the city? I've never really thought of myself as someone who fits best in areas of high population, especially since I've often thought that I would even enjoy living alone in the woods. But I don't think it's the population that makes a difference--I think what I need is a dynamic atmosphere. The city gives me that, maybe even simply because the city gives me a degree of anonymity, so I can have my own island of thoughts. Living alone in the woods would also leave me in solitude with my thoughts. So, both settings would be as dynamic as my own mind. On the other hand, small towns are much more static and exposed in my mind, and I think I find that oppressive.

There's something I can't quite reconcile about how I feel yet, though. I've been thinking about it all day, or at least, for most of the 6 hours spent in the car. Sometimes I wonder about the conclusions I make to justify the way I feel. I'm so out of touch with my feelings that I seldom know why I feel something, so I have to psychoanalyze myself to figure it out. But I only go until I find something that makes sense to me. Who knows if it is true or not.

At the same time, I have learned to trust my feelings even when I do not understand them. I have found that my intuition can speak for my true self better than my conscious thoughts often can. In a way, that makes me feel kind of powerless, especially since I value my mind a lot and I think the greatest gift I have is the ability to make sense of things in my head. Emotions are humbling, aren't they.

Digging For Fire

I'm falling apart. And I can't hold together the pieces of myself, and I think I've lost some of them.

My hope is that things get worse before they get better. I'm just tired of waiting for that turnaround to happen.

Well. Goodbye for now. Maybe next time, I'll have started to see the light.

How dare they try to end this beauty?

Today I was recruited to sing a descant in chapel, and the reading they did in chapel was from Revelation about the new heaven and the new earth. I love Revelation--it's beautifully mysterious, and I love the mystery in the promise of new life. But it got me remembering back to when I was in Israel and reading "Simply Christian" by N. T. Wright, which talks a lot about the new heaven and new earth to come and that Jesus was the point where heaven and earth met. And being in Israel on the Sea of Galilee, I felt as if the land there was lost in a daydream and would whisper memories to me of the time when heaven touched the earth...as if the power of Jesus coming to that place had granted salvation to the very land itself. I've never been anywhere like it.

Summer 2011. I've got to go back then, if not this next summer. Besides, I want to dig some more :)

You know what it is about Sufjan Stevens' music that I love most? I love the imagery and mimicry of birds. I'm not sure whether it's intentional on his part, but birds/wings are everywhere in his music (lyrics and sound), and I love how they give everything a kind of unearthly feel. It's interesting because I think a lot about following God by transcending earthly things, but I do that by thinking of contrasting characteristics and trying (trying) to choose the more Christ-like of the two: love/hate, humility/pride, generosity/selfishness, welcoming/judging, trust/worry etc. But I love how the imagery of birds provides a concrete symbol for these more abstract transcendental ideas. And the symbol creates even more mystery because it's open ended. Basically, I think using birds as a symbol of the unearthly is a beautiful way to think about faith while staying true to the mystery and depth of faith.

I'd like to think the bird imagery is intentional and that it is meant to be a symbol of transcending earth, like I see it. Who knows, though. Perhaps if I ever meet him again (with the condition that I wouldn't be so terribly shy from embarrassment), I will ask. Although, who am I kidding--if there is any possibility that the symbol is meant to be as I see it, then no amount of shyness could stop me from finding out.