Sunday, August 18, 2013

graced audacity of cookie-dough toothpaste


Don't even, I laughed.
Don't even try this one.
I know how this one goes.
It goes like: wait, wait, wait: deluge.
I don't want a deluge. 
I want a steady little trickle of manageable.
I don't want Beseiged by Love, I want Practical, Sensibly Scheduled Calendars, and Time Management Skills.
I want a full night's sleep in my new little bed in my new little house.
I want to remember to buy groceries once a week.
I want Neat and Tidy.
I want to Have Everything Under Control.
Honestly, let me just be candid here,
I don't want too much You. 
Just a comfortable amount, an amount I can handle.
I don't want to have to stretch to reach my full capacity.

Right.
But, 
really, what I'm living for is the next time I can get on the plane.
I'm counting down the seconds until I can board another flying machine that will take me who knows where. 
As long as it takes me somewhere new.
As long as it takes me somewhere with endless beauties I haven't discovered yet, new words in new languages to hear, and new homes to find.
I'm living for the next time I find myself in an airport with a rush of people flowing by me all going somewhere I'm not, but some of them going places I've already been.
I'm living for the next time you feel the wheels of a plane lift off the ground, a bumpy feeling which signals: you have left the ground. You are no longer attached to the safe assurance of earth--you are dangerously free--up in the sky.

Right.
But,
really, what I'm living for is the next time I curl up on the couch with my younger brother and watch Lord of the Rings-- 
and yell at Pippin to light the beacon already,
because he's done it each time I've watched the movie:
so just hurry up and light it already--we all know how the story goes--so go.
And then shriek with joy while each little hill of fire lights across the entire world, signaling the advent of salvation.
Because it is the familiar stories that win us over and wring our hearts the most.
Each time I repeat the story, it becomes more harrowing, more suspenseful, more beloved.
Unspeakable joy and immeasurable sorrow are blended together, and pull at your heart to go deeper and deeper and deeper.
I don't want to leave anything familiar, because I want to love it.

Right.
But,
really, what I'm living for is the purple sunset outside my window, re-learning how to flirt, laughing with friends under the twinkly lights of the bar patio, missing Shakina's laugh, dancing through the grocery store, singing Some Nights too loudly as I unpack all my earthly possessions, and telling a story about being on the verge of another grand adventure just around the bend that leads you know not where.

"I am on a pilgrimage to identity"
--Karol Wojtyła

Don't even, I laughed.
Don't even try this one.
I know how this one goes.
It goes: I want too much You. 
More than I can handle.
In this whole wide sweet world,
You have given me nothing sweeter than the pain of a heart being stretched.


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