So, here's the thing -- I've been needing depth. Depth in conversation, depth in faith, depth in learning. I feel stuck. Questions come to mind about all kinds of things, and I want to dig in. Trouble is, I don't know where to go, I can't afford to go back to school at the moment, and I can't do it alone. I need some fellow diggers. People with questions of their own. People who want to talk about their questions; not just to find the answers, but the explore the possibilities. To laugh at the ridiculous, while also realizing there's no such thing if the heart is pure. This need for depth, this need for exploration and inquisition, has me off-kilter. When I'm off-kilter, I fixate on things, and lately that fixation is the questions.
Who's in?
Showing posts with label driving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label driving. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
Sunday, January 20, 2013
day by day
After dropping our oldest off at school today, and making a quick stop at a friend's house and Dad's grave, and having no co-pilot for the drive home, I had a chance to mull over the words that have been swirling in my head for days without synthesizing enough to come out well.
On Friday, I tried two or three times to express what was in my head. The best I could do was my last post, which looked exactly like what I wanted to say, but looked far different, and had a far different feel than that which I usually write and post. Oh, well, that happens, and is a part of who I am; how I create, balance, flow.
Today, though, the key to tying the swirling words was the visit to Dad. I don't always stop when I'm in the area, and there are arguments for and against in my mind and my heart every time. Honestly, I'm not interested in what other people think I should do. I stop when I feel the need.When I do stop, it's not because I have any feeling that he's "there" more than he's anywhere else. It's more that I need to be in a specific place in my history in order to find something there. Clumsily, I could equate it to a pilgrimage: I'm going there to feel a connection between past and present, and only his headstone can be the portkey. On the pedestal, I found an ornament: a cross, with the words "Prayer Heals," left by someone since the last time I was there. Peeking behind the headstone, I chuckled that there is still a circle of dust where the bottle of wine left by my sister (who later asked me to remove it) had been hidden by the caretaker.
Prayer Heals.
Over the past week and a half, I have been participating in a Consecration to Mary, and Wednesday, this question was posed: Why are you here? What made you decide to do this? I've been thinking about it ever since--truthfully, I had been wondering before the question was asked aloud. I'd been struggling with an answer, because the quick and easy answer is that I am doing it because Mom is. I know that's not entirely true, because I had decided to get the book before Mom said she wanted to go, too. So, why? (The questioner, incidentally, was not looking for an answer; this is for my own benefit.)
After my visit, listening to Jeff Cavins (I highly recommend), Jason Mraz and David Cook (favorite song twice) while driving from the top of the state to the bottom, I was able to put together many of my thoughts. First of all, I've always had lots of questions. For a long time, I equated having questions to a lack of faith. Over the past few years, I have come to believe that what I really lack is understanding and knowledge--two things that bug me about anything I'm involved in. Therefore, my questions must be connected more to a desire for understanding, a thirst for knowledge, and a desire for a deeper faith. That's why I'm there: I want to see if I can find some answers, if I can get closer to goodness, faith, sainthood.
Lofty goals, but what better way to be a better person? Shouldn't goals be lofty? I have nothing to lose. I've worked on and developed balance in myself, in my life, and I've been getting this close all the time. So the next step is to focus on my spirit, my soul. Having life crises will do that for you: it makes you look at where you are, analyze it, take stock of the good, the bad and the ugly, and rearrange, reprioritize and reorganize. I'm opening, blooming, growing, developing.
A little late, maybe, but better late than never.
On Friday, I tried two or three times to express what was in my head. The best I could do was my last post, which looked exactly like what I wanted to say, but looked far different, and had a far different feel than that which I usually write and post. Oh, well, that happens, and is a part of who I am; how I create, balance, flow.
Today, though, the key to tying the swirling words was the visit to Dad. I don't always stop when I'm in the area, and there are arguments for and against in my mind and my heart every time. Honestly, I'm not interested in what other people think I should do. I stop when I feel the need.When I do stop, it's not because I have any feeling that he's "there" more than he's anywhere else. It's more that I need to be in a specific place in my history in order to find something there. Clumsily, I could equate it to a pilgrimage: I'm going there to feel a connection between past and present, and only his headstone can be the portkey. On the pedestal, I found an ornament: a cross, with the words "Prayer Heals," left by someone since the last time I was there. Peeking behind the headstone, I chuckled that there is still a circle of dust where the bottle of wine left by my sister (who later asked me to remove it) had been hidden by the caretaker.
Prayer Heals.
Over the past week and a half, I have been participating in a Consecration to Mary, and Wednesday, this question was posed: Why are you here? What made you decide to do this? I've been thinking about it ever since--truthfully, I had been wondering before the question was asked aloud. I'd been struggling with an answer, because the quick and easy answer is that I am doing it because Mom is. I know that's not entirely true, because I had decided to get the book before Mom said she wanted to go, too. So, why? (The questioner, incidentally, was not looking for an answer; this is for my own benefit.)
After my visit, listening to Jeff Cavins (I highly recommend), Jason Mraz and David Cook (favorite song twice) while driving from the top of the state to the bottom, I was able to put together many of my thoughts. First of all, I've always had lots of questions. For a long time, I equated having questions to a lack of faith. Over the past few years, I have come to believe that what I really lack is understanding and knowledge--two things that bug me about anything I'm involved in. Therefore, my questions must be connected more to a desire for understanding, a thirst for knowledge, and a desire for a deeper faith. That's why I'm there: I want to see if I can find some answers, if I can get closer to goodness, faith, sainthood.
Lofty goals, but what better way to be a better person? Shouldn't goals be lofty? I have nothing to lose. I've worked on and developed balance in myself, in my life, and I've been getting this close all the time. So the next step is to focus on my spirit, my soul. Having life crises will do that for you: it makes you look at where you are, analyze it, take stock of the good, the bad and the ugly, and rearrange, reprioritize and reorganize. I'm opening, blooming, growing, developing.
A little late, maybe, but better late than never.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
fears: pt. 3
Then there's my scariest fear: trucks on the highway. There's a possibility that came about when I was behind a truck that had a blowout. It causes him to fishtail all over the highway, with large pieces of rubber and a bunch of smoke everywhere. The thing is, I don't remember that scaring me a whole lot. I was driving the station wagon I had learned to drive in, and I was alone in the car--I even remember the landmarks around me, and that it was a beautiful, sunny day.
No, I think this fear started much later, and may even be related to the 'visions' I had associated with my (at the time undiagnosed) hypothyroidism. That would put the beginning somewhere in my early 20s, when I really started doing a lot of highway driving. For sure I can place it before I worked at a department store a half hour away, during the early bird shift. That's when I shared the fear with a friend I carpooled with occasionally, who then told me that truck drivers are probably the safest drivers on the road.
The really odd thing about this fear is how it come and goes. Truthfully, it hadn't bothered me for a while, even with the long summer commute I have, and the long trips I've been on, driving by myself. Then I saw a truck swerve a little, and straddle the line for about a mile, and it all came back: the panic I have to force down so I can concentrate on driving, and the white knuckle grip on the steering wheel. Ever since, I am back to "the big lean" to the center of the car when my husband passes a truck, and my own speeding up after four deep breaths when I have to pass. (It's less of a problem for me when they pass me. Weird and inconsistent, I know--that's how I know it's not all that rational!) And all the while, I can see the same vision behind what my eyes are seeing.....
What is this vision? Put simply, me being squashed by a semi on the highway. The vision has always varied slightly, I think based on what size car I am primarily driving. When it was mostly a mini-van I was driving, I see me and my car pancaked against the jersey barrier (which also makes me have the irritated thought that it is a "jersey barrier" not a "new jersey barrier." See? Not rational!), and the truck just driving away, not even noticing. When I drive a smaller car, or when I was driving a station wagon, as the truck moves over to change lanes, it either runs right over the car, or the car becomes wedged underneath for a few miles. Either way, in my mind's eye, I hear a screeching of metal and tires, and I end up gone. Perhaps the fact that I have never seen myself dead in these visions is a positive, but I do know that I come out of the vision "knowing" that's how I'm going to die.
One summer, I had a similar fear, but of crossing bridges. Dad and Mom had decided we would vacation in Vermont, and I remember hiding on the floor of the car when we crossed one long, high bridge. My sister and our friend, Nancy, were trying to coax me out to see the view, my mother was exasperated, and my father felt terrible that he couldn't do anything about it but continue driving. Somehow, I seem to recall it starting as a joke, and ending up being a real fear that summer. Not afterwards, though--just on that trip.
None of this keeps me off the road, though. In fact, I love driving and taking trips in the car. Driving to Florida this summer was a wonderful treat, and I'm looking forward to a trip to Savannah in the next couple of weeks. Being on the road offers a different kind of freedom, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. Trucks, you won't beat me! We'll just share the road.
But the moment you turn a corner you see another straight stretch ahead and there comes some further challenge to your ambition.
~Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.
No, I think this fear started much later, and may even be related to the 'visions' I had associated with my (at the time undiagnosed) hypothyroidism. That would put the beginning somewhere in my early 20s, when I really started doing a lot of highway driving. For sure I can place it before I worked at a department store a half hour away, during the early bird shift. That's when I shared the fear with a friend I carpooled with occasionally, who then told me that truck drivers are probably the safest drivers on the road.
The really odd thing about this fear is how it come and goes. Truthfully, it hadn't bothered me for a while, even with the long summer commute I have, and the long trips I've been on, driving by myself. Then I saw a truck swerve a little, and straddle the line for about a mile, and it all came back: the panic I have to force down so I can concentrate on driving, and the white knuckle grip on the steering wheel. Ever since, I am back to "the big lean" to the center of the car when my husband passes a truck, and my own speeding up after four deep breaths when I have to pass. (It's less of a problem for me when they pass me. Weird and inconsistent, I know--that's how I know it's not all that rational!) And all the while, I can see the same vision behind what my eyes are seeing.....
What is this vision? Put simply, me being squashed by a semi on the highway. The vision has always varied slightly, I think based on what size car I am primarily driving. When it was mostly a mini-van I was driving, I see me and my car pancaked against the jersey barrier (which also makes me have the irritated thought that it is a "jersey barrier" not a "new jersey barrier." See? Not rational!), and the truck just driving away, not even noticing. When I drive a smaller car, or when I was driving a station wagon, as the truck moves over to change lanes, it either runs right over the car, or the car becomes wedged underneath for a few miles. Either way, in my mind's eye, I hear a screeching of metal and tires, and I end up gone. Perhaps the fact that I have never seen myself dead in these visions is a positive, but I do know that I come out of the vision "knowing" that's how I'm going to die.
One summer, I had a similar fear, but of crossing bridges. Dad and Mom had decided we would vacation in Vermont, and I remember hiding on the floor of the car when we crossed one long, high bridge. My sister and our friend, Nancy, were trying to coax me out to see the view, my mother was exasperated, and my father felt terrible that he couldn't do anything about it but continue driving. Somehow, I seem to recall it starting as a joke, and ending up being a real fear that summer. Not afterwards, though--just on that trip.
None of this keeps me off the road, though. In fact, I love driving and taking trips in the car. Driving to Florida this summer was a wonderful treat, and I'm looking forward to a trip to Savannah in the next couple of weeks. Being on the road offers a different kind of freedom, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. Trucks, you won't beat me! We'll just share the road.
But the moment you turn a corner you see another straight stretch ahead and there comes some further challenge to your ambition.
~Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.
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