Yesterday while driving to work (stopped at a red light) I was completely transfixed by Fall. Spiraling down slowly, golden leaves unwittingly massaged my eyes. It was as if I stumbled upon the actual moment of Fall. The moment that is the essence of the season. They fell at such an amazing rate I wondered if there would be any left when I drove back by at night. Then I contemplated doing something unusual: I wanted to pull over and stand amidst this ballet troupe of foliage. I wanted to hear them, see them, smell them, and feel them. I wanted to absorb the Fall into my body. Hurriedness won the moment, but the admiration of beauty won the memory.
It's part of a larger movement within myself, this desire to "stop and smell the roses." To live a life of simplicity and devotion. Alas, simplicity ain't so simple, either.
I have a low threshold for ambiguity. I like to know what the rules are, I like to know what is expected of me, and I like to know what is going to happen. When we did the "strengthfinder" at Church I was amazed at how accurate my test results seemed to be. My #1 strength is "strategic." This means that I'm always asking "what if" and playing out hypothetical situations way in advance. I'm almost never surprised. I love strategic games like chess, othello, and scrabble.
Sometimes it seems like the desire to simplify and the desire to control are polar opposites.
But this is what I anticipate: I will toil on like this into my 40's, maybe even my 50's. I'll get lost in the day-to-day shuffling of papers, thinking I'm much more important than I am. And then, probably when our kids are gone, I'll look around and feel like I missed it. And then I expect I will experience a "mid-life crisis." It's almost perfectly engineered to occur. It is a necessity that I work, and that I work hard. I don't have a problem accepting that fact. What I have a problem with is my own inclination to lose sight.
When swimming in open water (lakes, rivers, oceans) it is imperative to use "sighting," the practice of looking around periodically to check your course. Currents can knock you off course, and in open water it can be difficult to recognize when you are swimming straight and when you are veering off in one direction.
Maybe what I'm doing now is akin to "sighting." My fear is that what I'm doing now is "worrying." Trying to anticipate and control all the variables in my life. The opposite of simplicity. We have some BIG decisions approaching.
While I wait and pray, I remember the leaves. They aren't concerned about where they'll fall. They don't worry about getting crunched. They simply enjoy the ride. And in their flaccid capitulation they become instruments of beauty. That's exactly what they do: they surrender. Maybe today I can just be like one of those leaves? Resigned to do my best, to follow my compass, but willing to go where greater forces would have me go.
More to come.
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If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber'd here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream...
4 comments:
Jer, I think you are totally right on. We spend the first half of life strategizing, stretching, aiming -- then realize none of it matters apart from the surrender. Somehow both are necessities. Meanwhile, we learn what a unique masterpiece the Creator has made. We can marvel, but we must humble and be humbled.
A diamond is a piece of coal that stuck to the job. Don't forget, tho, all the coal went through to get where it was when it was found. Ordinary stuff that was consumed, discarded, decayed, then found to be "used" again. But for those who are willing to endure -- the experience of being turned into a diamond. More cutting and polishing. Sounds like a life of "waste". But look at the outcome.
It's interesting that you used the analogy of falling leaves; I've had those very thoughts about life--especially during times of difficulty or hardship. I think the bottom line is that it's not about us at all. It's about the Creator who has a much bigger plan than we can even imagine.
I loved this post. Love you, too!
What I love the most is that you're predicting a mid-life crisis for yourself. Hopefully that can be avoided, as I'd rather not have to punch you in the face 20 years from now for wearing a toupée and driving a new Corvette.
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