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.