Definition

–noun

1. the act of defining or making definite, distinct, or clear.

2. the formal statement of the meaning or significance of a word, phrase, etc.

3. the condition of being definite, distinct, or clearly outlined.

4. sharpness of the image formed by an optical system.

5. the accuracy of sound or picture reproduction.

Synonyms: analogue, annotation, answer, characterization, clarification, clue, comment, commentary, cue, delimitation, delineation, demarcation, denotation, determination, diagnosis, drift, elucidation, exemplification, explanation, explication, exposition, expounding, fixing, formalization, gloss, individuation, interpretation, key, outlining, rationale, rendering, rendition, representation, settling, signification, solution, statement of meaning, terminology, translation

To painfully state the obvious, I decided to use the definitions of words to begin my blog posts because finding the "right" single word can help me to crystallize my own feeling-swirls into more grasp-able thoughts, so that I can communicate the swirls with some semblance of clarity. The definition(s) of the right word can also remind me of the myriad possible interpretations, and express multiple themes simultaneously, and lead me off on goose-chases of meaning in my own head. Who cares about what any reader might think, this is all about me and my own personal goose-chases are fun.

At least I thought it was all about me.

The last few weeks have been different. Defining. Clarifying. Characterizing. Explaining. Translating. Determining.

As usual, when I let go a little in several areas of my life, and ask a few of the right questions, then poof! the definitions began to appear.

When I entered Group Room number 9, Doug had a delightful diagram to visualize how our spiritual belief systems are complementary, how they probably magnetize us to one another, and how our own spiritual needs and desires relate to/orient around those of others. It was delightfully simple and complicated in all of the ways we love each other best.

[Aside -- This was a week after the Thanksgiving-o' laser-beam-conversations-weekend. (Laser: Short for light amplification by stimulated emission of radiation. A device that produces a nearly parallel, nearly monochromatic, and coherent beam of light by exciting atoms to a higher energy level and causing them to radiate their energy in phase.) In this case, Doug and I were the atoms. The device was the conversation, and the radiation, I suppose, was the combined pressure on each of us from many sources. The light was emitted via the clarity we each gained about the other. Another painfully obvious explanation but lately I delight in pain.]

Back to Group Room number 9. I'd already felt an increased sense of at-home-ness in this already comfy relationship, having survived both the refining pressures of this hellish semester and the laser beam conversations. But talking with Doug about this topic, in this manner, in this location, and in this tone, and watching him get so excited about his (very accurate) insights into "us," made me appreciate down to my very toes how incredibly much I love and value his need to dissect and understand everything to its core components in a way that can be diagrammed on a whiteboard in a group room in a business school library. Especially when it comes to me. Because, remember, it's all about me, and I am complicated. Which is apparently very lovable for someone who likes solving puzzles.

More importantly, I had asked Doug, during a laser-beam conversation the previous weekend, for what my heart told me I needed most in order to feel loved and respected: I need to know that he's trying to understand, and not making fast assumptions. And he did it!

[Aside #2 -- I didn't fully realize just how complicated my thinking pattern is until I attempted to tell Doug about a thought I'd had about some future scenario. The time to think the thought took however long it took me to walk about 100 yards from the parking garage to the crosswalk. Maybe a minute. It turns out that my simple thought required several chapters and a significant appendix in order to fully describe what I was thinking about. My description became increasingly incoherent. By the time I realized this, Doug was staring off into space, probably thinking about Kimchi or cheese or biscuits or noodles. So I just gave up and snuzzled him, and stared into his eyes a lot. I guess I do need someone to solve me.]

It is a time of definition. And there is so much more to learn that is not about me.

Resignation

~noun
1. the act of resigning; relinquishment of responsibility
2. a formal statement, document, etc. stating that one gives up an office or position
3. endurance; an accepting, unresisting attitude, state, etc.; submission; acquiescence
4. forbearance, restraint, self-control, tolerance

I kept a lonely sadness again just a few days ago, but denied its desire to stay more than a night or two. It was the second visit in as many weeks, after many long months of peace. The first visitor was petulant at first, self-pitying, and then an old dead grief surfaced. It wanted comfort and found it. The second visitor was more vicious, or perhaps simply more honest. It wants to change me, but what if I can't change? I removed myself from its presence, but the scent lingered. Are these messengers or refugees?

And just this evening an old familiar concept which for weeks has been persistently tickling the fringes of my ego (whose very own independent nervous system is firmly, undeniably housed in my solar plexus) eased itself into my mood with a sickening familiar jolt. I awaken groggily, unwillingly, to grasp at the meanings. Old Familiar is clothed in a strangely simple and practical new word this time, a word possessed of frightening inherent contradictions along with the comfortably reassuring coherence.

Perhaps the more rebellious, defiant, selfish parts of my arrogant psyche had chased it there with all of their bright and hopeful raucous energy and drunkenness on the essence of my emotions, but they couldn't hold the line because the definitions of "resignation" and the conditions which bring it inexorably into view inevitably succeed rebellion and defiance from within or without, via evolution or revolution.

It is the endless cycle. It is a continuous termination of action. It is both enduring and giving up. It is patience and acceptance of powerlessness; it is determination and and self-control that goes on and on, forever and ever, amen.

It is reliance on the power of the inevitable.

It first came to me thru the I Ching. Perhaps that's why it's back. Ch'ien, The Creative ~ The movement of heaven is full of power / Thus the superior man makes himself strong and untiring. K'un, The Receptive ~ Furthering thru the perseverance of a mare... / quiet perseverance brings good fortune. / The earth's condition is receptive devotion. Thus the superior man who has breadth of character / Carries the outer world.

Its Greek home might be "makrothumia," requiring "tapeinophrosune" to hold it together, a humble sort of emotional calm, an enduring admission of utter powerlessness and acquiescence to a power far greater than anything human could ever accomplish. And that power, after all, is joyful truth.

But "resignation," in its practical modern way is far simpler than these ancient concepts.

And after all my murmuring, I'm thankful for the return of the old familiar joyful melancholy. I have ever lost what was dearest to my heart. I don't want to let go, to give up, to resign my selfish desires, but I must, in order to complete the cycle, to endure. Because there is hope.

I choose hope.

Thy will be done.

Monotony

- noun
1. wearisome uniformity or lack of variety, as in occupation or scenery.
2. the continuance of an unvarying sound; monotone.
3. sameness of tone, cadence, or pitch, as in speaking.

Synonyms: colorlessness, continuance, continuity, dreariness, dryness, dullness, ennui, equability, evenness, flatness, humdrum*, identicalness, invariability, levelness, likeness, monotone, monotonousness, oneness, repetitiousness, repetitiveness, routine, same old thing, similarity, tediousness, tedium, tiresomeness, unchangeableness, uniformity, wearisomness

Why am I doing this to myself?!

Oh, yeah. That whole preparing for the rest of my life thing.

I was chatting with another dorm parent this evening. "I hate my life," she said. "Why?" I asked.

"What if I end up doing this forever? I'm finished with school. What if this is all there is?!" She's in her 20's.

I realized that it never occurred to me to think about things that way. First of all, I doubt I'll ever be finished with school. Secondly, I've always been happiest when my was filled to the brim with activity. The activities filling my life just weren't particularly well-directed until I figured myself out.

Lately, each day feels like awful 1970's wallpaper: an uncomfortable mishmash recurring in an overwhelmingly busy pattern that envelops every available inch with its everywhere-ness, never pausing to consider whether each surface really needs the attention of its busy nature. Altogether, the effect is numbing, and nauseating. And boring. But not without purpose, and when I pause to reflect I know that I am not at all unhappy.

But... what if my ENTIRE LIFE is destined to be 1970's-wallpaper-busy??? Oh HELL no.

The marathon was monotonous, too, even though it spanned 26 miles of varying terrain after 300 miles of training. The monotony actually came from exhaustion, not from lack of merit in the activity. I had a purpose, and I achieved it. In 2007 at the age of 30 I couldn't run 3 miles without walking. And now I have a silly little 26.2 sticker on my car. Recently I added a little "Vanderbilt" sticker to keep it company. Taken by themselves they're not a big deal; added into the patterns of the rest of my life so far, and the likelihood of future developments, they're kind of interesting.

There is a POINT to my life. I'm not sure what that is, yet. But in the end it won't be boring. Because I'm not bored, I'm just really tired.

The uncomfortable monotony penetrates from time to time into the one blessed peacefully-interesting refuge in my life, the place which has added new comfort and energy to my purpose this year. Working together normalizes our conversations anyway; five weeks of on-campus weekends has eliminated much of the "spark" of (mental) interest in each other from our relationship. The fact that both of us are regularly physically and emotionally crushed by our work adds an unneeded, unwelcome element of pressure which makes one or both of us erupt or cling, from time to time. Last weekend was the worst it's been. I was in despair.

Fortunately, we have a strange kind of empathy and respect (and physical chemistry) that's really helped us to withstand the pressure, so far. Every now and then, I wonder how much longer we can take it, but so far we just seem to fuse more tightly together after each wave of pressure.

We need peace. We need rest. We need...purpose. Where are we going?

Execution

- noun
1. the act of process of executing.
2. the state or fact of being executed.
3. the infliction of capital punishment or, formerly, of any legal punishment.
4. the process of performing a judgment or sentence of a court.
5. a mode or style of performance; technical skill, as in music.
6. effective, usually destructive action, or the result attained by it.
7. judicial writ directing the enforcement of a judgment.
8. the act of running a program or routine, or the performance of an instruction.

What have I been doing for the last 3 months?

See full definition above.

Thank God for Doug. He kept all the execution from killing me. And maybe I helped him a little, too.

Restless(ness)

- adjective
1. characterized by or showing inability to remain at rest.
2. unquiet or uneasy, as a person, the mind, or the heart.
3. never at rest: perpetually agitated or in motion.
4. without rest; without restful sleep.
5. unceasingly active; averse to quiet or inaction.

Last week was a long week of much action. I had more free time on my hands than I've had for a few months, and I chose to use it doing a few things that I've been wanting to do all summer: reading (for pleasure) and running. And so I did them, as I do most things the need for which has been building: with wholehearted, almost maniacal, purpose and focus, while also trying to be moderately productive at my job and remember to eat healthily now and then.

The book was A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers. I remember seeing this book at bookstores for years but never felt a need to read it. It seemed too mainstream or something, and I rarely enjoy bestsellers. Doug read it in late May/early June and I remember it affecting his mood greatly, so I picked up a copy.

The best thing about running is, it gives me time to think and the energy to think fast and furiously and positively; reading tends to agitate my imagination, because when I read something I want to read I don't just process the words, I deeply experience and internalize what I'm reading. And then a conversation with Doug about discontentment (no, restlessness!) and my past sent me reeling...what a week for thinking.

As usual, it all ties together. Where I've been puts me where I am today.

AHWOSG was published about ten years ago. Ten years ago I graduated from college. As I read Eggers' description of furniture, wallpaper, people, places, shows, I was reminded of the world I grew up in: a world without internet, with lots of plaid flannel and MTV and grunge music. The 1990's were just another cycle which among other things saw the rise of my generation of slackers, the MTV generation, the teenage counter to the ambitious preppie hard-working yuppie culture of the 80's who are the parents of the high schoolers I advise.

Too much has been written about differences in generations for me to go into it here, except to say that I have always been a misfit in my generation. Technically everyone's a deviation from a "norm" to some degree, but I'm increasingly aware (and appreciative) of just how strange I was, and am, relative to my age group. I was born in what was then pretty deep country to an educated but rural-cultured family. My dad was a wildlife officer, farmer, and an alcoholic. My stepdad was northern and Polish, he yelled and was pushy but took me fishing and bike-riding and left me alone most of the time, so I didn't know whether to hate him or like him most of the time. My mom was a housewife, then a secretary, then a paralegal, then put herself through school to become an adviser to the US attorney. I was by far the youngest child in the family, so I was virtually raised as an only child which was fine with me, because I was far more comfortable with adults than other kids.

My first years of school were in Tennessee, a different school for pre-K, Kindergarten, and first grade. I remember being an outsider because I took advanced reading classes, didn't talk or act or look or play like other kids, and didn't particularly want to fit in. This meant that I was teased and bullied a bit, usually for "acting too smart" and being "ugly" (thanks for the paige-boy haircut, mom), but not too much, because I wasn't small and I didn't make myself available because I wandered off all the time. Not to say I wasn't lonely; I was! But never for too long... I didn't realize it until just now, but my best friends came to me then, and they have always come to me when I needed them most. wow.

Anyway, thank God we moved to Texas. Texas offered a pretty stable suburban childhood during important years, and Texas schools had stuff for kids like me to do! Stuff to keep us from going insane. Stuff that made me feel not-so-smart-anymore and actually compete with other kids! I hated competing, I refused to play teenage social games, and I remained a misfit or an outskirter. But the other kids did give me something to compare myself to, so I learned to play an instrument, indulged my talent at drawing and painting and sculpting a little bit. And I read. I read so much. I filled shelves with books. I sold shelves of books at garage sales. I have so many memories which are tied intimately to what beloved book I was reading, or re-reading, or re-re-reading. Books were my best friends when kids were not.

Horses had always been a passion, and looking back I see that they were an outlet for all of my teenage tension. Coming back to TN and leaving my Texas life behind wasn't that hard because my friends were horses. Webb nurtured this even more: my friends were the children of professors, the hippie-ish smart outerlimits-loving kids who didn't smoke or drink, to my knowledge. And instead of going out and getting in trouble, I was working myself to exhaustion at the barn. This made me even more of a misfit with my generation, but by the time I cared, it was too late to catch up. So I just kept going to the beat of my own personal percussionist.

I marched right on into college, and about 3 years in, the percussionist died. Or maybe took up the lute or harmonica, because there was no longer the clear purposeful marching but instead a hesitant sort of humming sound. Maybe it was the internet or the Matrix or just ringing in my ears. I started to feel kinda lost. And I felt absolutely no connection to my generation of culture and purpose to yank me in any particular direction. In 2000, about the time AHWOSG was published, my dad died, which further rocked my world. So I started to wander (metaphorically, of course, I stayed pretty firmly planted physically in Middle TN). My wandering was supported by a pretty good work ethic and a great job with a global company that took me places and showed me people and concepts I'd never have been exposed to otherwise. I had so many friends, I traveled almost every month, I dated and had my heart broken, I dated and kept my heart out of it, and I learned how to be alone. I learned so much, but I felt increasingly lost and disconnected. I didn't stop wandering until about 2007.

In 2007 my customers were colleges and universities. Learning about their business challenges, thinking about the learning environments they were trying to create, woke something up in me. Physically I woke up, too. I decided to start taking care of myself again. I started dating with a little bit more purpose, and decided that I was much happier alone than trying to conform myself to any over-ambitious man's idea of what he wants in a wife. And I found God again. By Jan 1 2008 I had paid of 100% of my non-mortgage debt. I felt free and confident and secure. And I felt like exploring.

This time I wasn't wandering, I was actually searching with a purpose. I didn't need a percussionist: I knew where and when (and why!) to put my feet. I took myself into a completely new career path, one that would expose me to education, non-profit, small business, children, and (by virtue of being a school) give me time and a reason to discover what's happening in the world from the safety of my desk and via conversations with people whose business it is to know things. Fast-forward two more years and you're here.

No wonder I'm restless. I always refused to stop and join into anyone else's world, and now I'm somewhere that tries to coerce me, daily, more strongly than anywhere else I've been, into stopping and growing roots. But my sense of purpose is itching again. Wanderlust is setting in.

Affinity

- noun
1. A natural liking or attraction to a person, thing, idea, etc.
2. a person, thing, idea, etc., for which such an attraction is felt.
3. A relationship by marriage or by ties other than blood.
4. Inherent likeness or agreement; close resemblance or connection.
5. Biology: the phylogenetic relationship between two organisms or groups of organisms resulting in a resemblance in general plan or structure, or in the essential structural parts.
6. Chemistry: the force by which atoms are held together in chemical compounds.

- adjective
7. Of or pertaining to persons who share the same interests.


Last night I attended a party where I knew most of the other guests, but I didn't know any of them well. While we watched the adorable 2-year-old daughter of one couple run around and play and say incredibly cute and adult-like things, we started to talk about childhood and how children imitate and display their family/social group's culture.

One of the guests told a story about his time teaching very young students (7-10 years) in Thailand recently. He said that in Thailand, it is a very important part of the culture for everyone to belong to a specific social group. He said this as though it were not the same in the US. He described the culture as extremely tolerant, but at the same time emphasized that it was extremely important in the area where he taught that each individual identify with some group. He didn't specify in what way that this importance is communicated, but he gave an example of a young boy telling him, "you don't need to call me Mr. so-and-so, I'm a fairy-girl," by which the child which meant that he was claiming identity as a homosexual with an affinity with a well-known and accepted group.

This was probably the most interesting thing said all night. Everyone in the group marveled at the wonderful example of undeniable "tolerance" displayed in the example: a child felt free enough to associate with a group which in the US might be treated with far less tolerance! (gasp!)

It reminded me of the recurring human need for "belonging," and the associated feelings of affinity for shared customs, symbols, traditions, activities. For this child, of course, as with US school children, it's likely that the social group he was claiming with his words and actions was not yet well-defined enough in his mind for him to truly relate; rather, he was testing out the "fit" of a social role he didn't understand yet but which had a symbolic or iconic quality for him, through play. And through play he would come to understand whether or not the social role really fit him (an alternative notion of social roles might say that playing in this social role would shape him. I tend to think it's a little bit of both).

Earlier that day at lunch, my classmates and I had laughed about how much more meaning was conveyed in certain movies we'd seen as kids than we were ever aware of, as kids. We may have loved the movies as kids, but we didn't understand everything. We can remember not understanding it, but we can't always identify the moments when we came to understand. It was by being exposed to those unintelligible meanings and then having subsequent life experiences that we came to our own fuller personal understanding of meaning.

It's amusing (and maybe a little bit lonely) to know that even as we marvel over what we think are shared experiences, even as we feel understood by others and laugh about our personal journey to gain understanding, the meanings in our heads are always completely our own. Yet so often we try to impose them on others, selfishly. And sometimes we impose these meanings that we come to understand on ourselves, but we think that they're being imposed by others because of our own need to "belong" to a group.

As I listened to the party guest's story about the Thai boy's play at social games which were foreign and yet not foreign to the same behavior in our region, I reminded myself that adults are really no different from children. A favorite mentor of mine once said, "adults are just kids with responsibilities and big-people clothes on." Like children, adults are also free to "play" with our lives and social roles, unless we have "locked" ourselves out of freedom through our need to belong by choosing a social role that forbids straying outside its defining traditions, lest we become ostracized and lose our social ties. Commitments to family, job, and other responsibilities are still choices, even they might not feel that way from the "inside."

If our lifestyle is part of a small-scale local "counter-culture" or "indie movement" rejecting some larger-scale social norms, if our choices use the choices of others as models for our own then we're still choosing a social group. The very personal context in which we make the choice to align with some social group can hide the fact that we're aligning with that group from our consciousness. By trying to be edgy and original, we are of course just like everyone else who's trying to be edgy and original.

The real edge is not a sharp edge, it's a frayed and ragged edge because pieces of it reach further from the "middle" than others. It's lonely at the edge, but when there's nowhere else to belong, it's one place to go. And as some approach the edge, others are drawn by them and follow, and eventually the edge becomes the middle.

It's more work not to be part of any group than it is to try to be part of some group in particular.

Nothing particularly original here. Just teasing out my own sense of meaning.

Volition

- noun
1. The act of willing, choosing, or resolving; exercise of willing.
2. A choice or decision made by the will.
3. The power of willing; will.

The easiest and also the most difficult way to use our volition is to submit, to have faith.

I've been alone for so long. Even when I wasn't alone, I was lonely. Maybe because I had to learn to submit my lonely volition to His Will before I could be secure enough to really be with someone else -- so that He could show me who I really am supposed to be according to His plan, so that I could love that someone else for who they are and what they are becoming without shaping myself to their reality because I don't have enough reality of my own. To keep me from being pulled off-balance by their gravity.

I guess it worked, because I'm physically alone again for the first weekend in months, the start of more than 3 weeks without relationship-y things to look forward to, but I'm not lonely at all; instead, I feel thoughtful, positive energy. I always said that I preferred being alone to being with people, and I was telling the truth: even my best friends would make me feel achy with loneliness after a while. I'd have to get away from them in order to recharge. But when I was alone I'd inevitably start to think about the loneliness and wonder about it.

Today, this alone-time feels good, or maybe even so much better than it used to, because I'm not bored and I'm so happy with where my life seems to be going. Although I'm not really sure where that is, so maybe there's another reason why I'm happy.

On Friday I read thru an old journal which spans the progress from a very desolate time in my life thru the first year or so of my new job. I do this from time to time, because my journals are like maps which, if I re-read them, will keep me from going in endless circles (the definition of insanity?). This journal documents my first genuine, willing-to-listen questions about God's plan for my life. Ok, God, I'm apparently doing a shitty job at this being-a-happy-independent-successful-person thing, just like you tried to tell me, so help me out a little. Since I really meant it and I was willing to listen even if I didn't like the answers, there it was.

Just keep asking questions and follow Me.

It worked. It's so easy, but it was so hard. It's pretty easy to fall off the path, but now that I know where the path is, it's much easier to find. But I still can't explain it to anyone else, and its hard to watch them struggle. That bothers me on some levels, but on others I'm comforted because I know that my happiness, or at least stability under pressure, proves that it's possible to be this way to others who haven't figured that out yet. I am being used by using myself for God's plan.

It's also frustrating to see the guide to the path/plan that I understand twisted by so much distortion of doctrine, and to know that others potentially view my faith and happiness thru distorted lenses which abound within mainstream religion. I don't want to be perceived as naive, judgmental, lascivious, etc, but I guess that's what Christ went thru. Today I'm comforted because I know that each of us takes our own journey and must learn our own truths. Perhaps that was a source of the loneliness, before? I was afraid to walk my own path, but today I rest in faith? I learn to keep letting go.

Time is a test. Moment by moment, can you keep the balance, as the speed and difficulty increase?

I just remembered the conversation which sparked what became the last four months of not-alone-ness was about human free will, predestination, and the nature of God's plan at the brunch table in February. Doug lent me Boethus' Consolation of Philosophy. And so it went, and so it goes. Conversations, rambles, shared experiences, endless distances.

We choose our path. We choose to stay on it, we choose to step off. And when we choose the path that is already chosen for us by Truth and Love, and when we are willing to choose to let go to stay with that path, we come to realize the greatest comfort of all: we are not alone.

Polarity

- noun 1. physics. a. the property or characteristic that produces unequal physical effects at different points in a body or system. b. the positive or negative state in which a body reacts to a magnetic, electric, or other field.

2. the presence or manifestation of two opposite or contrasting principles or tendencies.

3. Liguistics a. (of words, phrases, or sentences) positive or negative character. b. polar opposition.

As I was running I thought about the contrast between my last two posts. Inspiration followed by lack of inspiration? Am I just being moody and fickle? But no, I decided, I am progressing along a course of thought and experience. I suppose a more accurate title for the last post might be causality, but I'll leave it as it is because "because" worked best, at that moment.

Causality doesn't work for this post, either, because the strongest force in a totally new area of my life is polarity: the polarity of this relationship I'm in, the one that stretches and challenges me. Last Friday we had a conversation, not the first or the last, which touched on theology. I felt misunderstood and, more importantly, incapable of expressing my thoughts, which happens frequently with this guy, but for some reason doesn't completely infuriate me but instead makes me let go and listen more. Lately he's doing a great job reining in an attitude of condescension which has been known to shut me down, and trying to listen more to my feeble attempts to critically think about completely new, raw material.

So as I got home from a sweaty run tonight and re-read my last post, as I txted back and forth with him, I suddenly read my words thru what I imagine his perspective might be. And I laughed, because it is so easy to misinterpret what I mean by finding "God's plan" and "bible study" and "spiritual growth." Because those concepts are so completely personal and subjective, but they're so very mine that I can't conjure up any other words to convey my meaning to myself. I can't even describe them here because they are the sum of a book's worth of experiences.

That is the nature of and the reason for my why?: it is all of the questions that create the conditions for the answers to appear to me. I've never really had to communicate them to another person in this way, so it's been like writing with my left hand at times.

My why? isn't broken. It's been exhausted by the polarity, which has been slowly making it stronger.

More to come.

Because

- conjunction
1. For the reason that; due to the fact that

- Idiom
2. Because of; by reason of; due to

- Usage note
1. See reason

I think my why? is broken. Yes, I said my why?. It's at least malfunctioning. Non-functioning, actually. Maybe it's the heat. The heat is causing most of me to malfunction. It makes sense that, in order to complete its assault, the heat's malevolence would go for the very source of my energy and try to get at my why?.

My why?, by the way, is the facet of my self that finds my Why. For the last several years I've been making incredible progress based solely on the force of my Why.

In my last post I named my current challenge: to formulate a new List, now that literally everything I wanted to do, in big-picture pursuit of an independent-but-not-insanely-so-while-contributing-positively-to-the-world life, is done. I'm currently just coasting along on the positive inertia of the last two years' Why-driven work. In days gone by, I had only to wait in order for the why? to start examining everything in me until the pressure built up and I spontaneously entered list-making mode. But if there's no why?, there's no pressure, and therefore no List.

Hmmm.

Perhaps I should take inventory while I still have time, before the complete madness of the school year follows the heat's energy-suck and tramples me flat. That would be bad, and certainly completely ruin the progress I made.

The most why?-inspiring questions I remember asking in the past, to get me started, were:

1) What is God's plan for my life?
2) What the hell do I have to do to feel good about my body and look good in my clothes?
3) How the hell do I get this freakin' list of stuff done?!

Ok, the things that need the most immediate work (again) are:

1) spiritual life
2) physical health & fitness
3) time management system (in preparation for the future overwhelmed-ness).
4) STUDY

OK that's done. Time for a run and a bible study, then a STUDY. Watch out, heat. I'm looking for my why? via God's plan, and you're not gonna stop me.

Inspire(ation)

–verb (used with object)
1. to fill with an animating, quickening, or exalting influence.
2. to produce or arouse (a feeling, thought, etc.).
3. to fill or affect with a specified feeling, thought, etc.
4. to influence or impel: Competition inspired her to greater efforts.
5. to animate, as an influence, feeling, thought, or the like, does.
6. to communicate or suggest by a divine or supernatural influence.
7. to guide or control by divine influence.
8. to prompt or instigate (utterances, acts, etc.) by influence, without avowal of responsibility.
9. to give rise to, bring about, cause, etc.
10. to take (air, gases, etc.) into the lungs in breathing; inhale.
11. Archaic .
a.to infuse (breath, life, etc.) by breathing (usually fol. by into ).
b. to breathe into or upon.

I need to study. It’s so hard to make myself get the notebook out and do the work when there’s so much waiting to be read. But I know that I can’t NOT do this, I’ve been trying not to do this for years now, and there’s no escape.

I was stuck in an in-between: I know way too much to be a subservient administrative cog or to be content stifled by ignorance around me; but I don’t know enough to be truly competent (or confident) doing anything else. Unlike most of my classmates, I don’t want this MBA to make more money. As far as money, I just want to make enough to live comfortably, perhaps contribute to raising a family someday, and take care of myself in my old age if I make it that long. What I REALLY want is to “make the world a better place” but I don’t know what the hell that means yet. I just know that I wasn’t in a position to do it without a firm grasp of really nerdy business concepts, some solid credentials from a strong, well-known school, and a wide network of future contacts for when I eventually do figure it out.

I need a new “list.” I’ve been just taking life as it came for 2 years now, and accomplished everything on the limited but complicated “list” I made once I paid all of my debt: get a new job doing something in education (done); completely change my environment and daily rhythms to be more healthful and mindful (done); listen to the new rhythms to figure out what to do about grad school (done); get into grad school (done). Now I just have to remain employed (ideally while doing a good job changing an institution which changes lives), learn enough to actually carry with me past grad school, and figure out what the hell is after grad school. Completely unexpectedly, and certainly because of these changes, I also met someone amazing who is already helping me to do just that.

The best part about being with someone who truly challenges me is the feeling of being stretched. It’s wonderful in the same way a good morning stretch after physically working hard the previous day is wonderful and invigorating. It’s extraordinary how being with this person – really being WITH him in physical, mental, and emotional ways, for extended periods of time – raises my awareness that my own experiences can never possibly be enough to span the distance, spiritually. I know that I must let go of everything – trust – and be truly humble in seeking to understand. But no matter how much I let go, the tether stretches, I’m still connected to my experiences, and inevitably I’m pulled back into their confinement. But I’m stretched!

On the other hand, I’ve been stretched way too much on the professional side of things. I’m all saggy. It’s exciting and beginning to be inspiring to have leaders who seem to “get it,” but I’ve been acting like a one-woman bungee cord at work for too long now. My elasticity is shot. I’m praying that my kinetic energy will be restored, somehow. But perhaps that’s how it will be for a while. Maybe I just need to adjust to a new, unfamiliar source of energy. Inspiration? So far, it feels great.

Nexus

[nek-suh s]
1) a means of connection; tie; link
2) a connected series or group
3) the core or center, as of a matter or situation
4) Cell Biology . a specialized area of the cell membrane involved in intercellular communication and adhesion.

I give up. I can't resist the temptation to start my own blog any longer. I was toying with the idea during my last "life-interchange" in 2008, but then I got too busy. Who's to say I won't, again, but then again a blog could also help me keep my head in one place. And no-one has to read it if I don't want them to...or if they don't want to.

Anyway, I seem to be at a kind of nexus of the varied experiences in my life: all of the facets of life and academia I've kept compartmentalized are quickly coming together and interacting in new and exciting ways.

Long-term personal growth and development has been a sort of backstage-whispering influence on most of the choices I've made since graduating from college, but this year it takes center stage. I was just accepted to the graduate program I've been teasing around in my mind for almost a decade. I went from teasing to earnest effort in 2008 and especially this spring 2010. The application process was a re-awakener of sleeping pieces of me and pieces I didn't know existed. I'd never bombed anything as miserably as I did the GMAT the first time I took it, never felt that my future was riding on my performance at this one specific task. I was shaking! It turned out to be the best possible thing, a wake-up call that buckled me down in a way I could never have motivated in myself. This will be the largest, riskiest investment I've ever made. The house doesn't count because I can sell it and recoup, at worst, 2/3 what I paid for it; this immaterial 2-year degree will cost about half of my house's purchase price and will only recoup what I can make of it. I've tried in every possible way to NOT get this degree but, like a magic forest, my life's paths have all led to this place. This nexus. So here I go.

The job which has contributed two years of incredible turbulence to all other realms of my life shows signs of smoothing out significantly into a semblance of normalcy. A few weeks of greatly slowed-down pace have renewed my mind and hopefully my ability to focus. A fantastically easy relationship with someone who I find attractive, interesting, entertaining, challenging, inspiring, and comforting (and who apparently has a reciprocal attraction of some nature) has taken the place of a gnawingness that has always been there. Like unexpectedly regaining feeling and function in a paralyzed limb, I haven't been quite sure what to do with it, except perhaps to poke it to feel it feeling me poking it, move it without general purpose to enjoy the movement, and test its limits. It's still tender and new, and I'm still not quite sure what to do with it. Its very existence is reassuring.

It's the sort of peaceful time when, in the past, I had confident expectation that an anvil was going to fall out of the sky and smash the peace into smithereens, but so far the peace has a gravity that's just attracting more peace and no anvils.

So I'm giving in to the urge to document on a blog. From this nexus I'll be learning and growing in entirely new ways during the coming years, and it might be nice to look back on my experiences as I've enjoyed looking back on those of others.

The blog name, by the way, is a line from one of my favorite David Gray songs.