Where I am

This morning I got up far too late. In fact, I got up to take the trash out and then when back to bed. I was wasting time, and I knew it. I wasted time all morning. I knew I wasn't looking about where I was. I wasn't doing work, and my mental idea of the place around me was dingy and unclear.

This afternoon, or the beginning of this afternoon I began to really look around me. I picked up my school books that have lain dormant these few days and worked. I sat by the kitchen table and looked out the window, felt the breeze and the sound of where I was. (Where I am)

Since getting back from Wheatstone, I've had a mixture of all sorts of those processes. I was glad to have the rest of Saturday to relax, attempt to surf (with miserable consequences), swim, and mostly sit on the beach thinking far too much about the morning.

Sunday was mostly a day of airports. Airports and more thinking. Mostly happy thinking and remembering of the week. I love airports. I had an hour of waiting. I posed on all the elevators, went on unnecessary elevators to pose some more. I used a pay phone for the first time in my life (it was a week of new experiences). I walked with distinct swagger, feeling absurd.

Now . . . since then . . . I've wondered how to integrate myself back into my life, back into my place. So far I've been mostly failing. The last few days have been success mixed with failure, with a lot of apprehension thrown in. This afternoon, though, I think I'm beginning to find where I am. Find out . . . how I can love my place, and work diligently in it.

Also . . . I think I am seeing Christianity (in the strictest terms of what it means, the real thing, not our conceptions of it) transform my life in completely unnoticeable ways.


Hayley said…
I hate coming home from a new experience because I hate reintegration. It's a miserable, soul-sucking thing, even when it's not.

I love airports, too.

[word verification: volka - polka music played by drunk Russians.]
Art said…
This post feels like rays of light shining through a high window. (or that's the image that came to mind)

Your description of Sunday makes me smile.

I think I've been experiencing much the same thing; yesterday afternoon I felt like I was finally able to understand and express what I was trying to sort out in my mind. :)
Pensword said…
Airports are great places to do peoplewatching. I had a four-hour layover in Chicago/O'Hare...spent the whole time sitting on a bench, pretending to read a book but really watching people go by.

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