Tuesday, January 21, 2014

because the words are antsy

Such aspirations to write often, to not let days pass by without penning thoughts and moments, but in these early weeks of growing a baby, I find myself with little left to offer the quiet of evening, but to sit and wonder how long I should stay awake before excitedly crawling into bed.

I know that is perfectly fine, but I still have words trapped inside.  So on this Tuesday, I'm claiming my lunch break, because they are getting antsy.

My mind reels lately, with all the thoughts of life, you know the same ones I've been asking and could be asking for forever.  I'm not sure I know more than I did before, but small trinkets come my way that carry me forward and I know that this journey, this wild adventure is absolutely orchestrated by the one who knows.  I'm starting to consider the questions differently, pondering that the answer I seek is not found in the form I seek it.

Anyone who knows me or follow along here know that change is my thing.  Feeling restless? Get a haircut.  Re-arrange the furniture.  Move to a new state.  Wonder if you'll ever feel settled anywhere on this earth.  And hey, get pregnant, because why would any calendar year pass without major changes.  I always laugh when it comes to tax time, and the software asks, have you had any major life changes this year?  It's nearly impossible for me to think of a year in my adult life that didn't include at least a handful of those.  And then I consider the people who answer that question with a resounding, NO and I'm thrown into this baffling state of wondering how that is possible and what that may be like.  But, I never get too far down that rabbit trail, because the very idea makes me feel a little trapped, for them, even for me.  I don't like that at all.

Throughout most of my days, there is a continuous discussion of my thoughts that goes something like this...  Is there a place on this earth that will ever be really, truly home? 

Like, in the scene at the end of Away We Go, a film that forever stirs my restless.  I can not watch that movie without feeling all of it, the search, the wanderings, the wonder if ever home will meet them somewhere on a map.  And then, they arrive at her childhood home, just weeks before the birth of their child and she steps into the closed-up house and sees the light streaming in and hears the beckoning of the waves beyond the door.  She steps through the French doors and stands before the sea, tall grasses wave in the wind and in absolutely no words and endless emotions, you know they've found home.  That, right there?  It's magic I won't soon forget.  But, home for me, at least in the childhood sense doesn't exist anymore and when I got married, we both knew we needed to forge ahead creating our own. So, three states later, we find this landing place that we happily will fill.  And for all the things I like,  for all the reasons that let me know this is the right place for the right time, I've still to check the box called, "Discover the place that is truly home."  This place is nice.  It's important, but it's just a place and I don't know if I feel the tender roots nestling into the soil or if I feel just as wind blown and free as ever.

There are times when I feel slivers of it, standing on edge of the ocean before the dance of the salty spray, rushing winds, and crashing waves or fully the divine connection of being immersed in process of creating art. 

I read once, somewhere that I can not name, that perhaps some creative souls will wander the earth, driven by an insatiable desire to discover, experience, and create.  And because their souls connect to God on a deeper level, in this creative way, that perhaps they will never feel truly at home, until they stand face to face with the greatest artist of all.   Maybe it's his presence or the evidence of it, that sustains them, until that glorious day. So we search. We create. We are restless. This might be one of things that makes the most sense to me in all this world.  So,  how do I cherish that restlessness so innate in me, in this perfect blend of contented discontentment?  Because, contented discontent, oh, I get that.

Maybe I'll just ask questions for a long time without knowing, being sustained by the glimpses for all my days.  Or maybe we will indeed cross paths with that place marked home for us here, during these important, fleeting days. 

And so, as it goes, these words feel better than I have given them a space, as raw and unedited as they are. 

Until next time.


1 comment:

  1. LIV! Oh congratulations, my friend. And I miss you. You've been on my mind a lot lately. :)


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