Uncharted

I pulled into the a parking space at the far end of the lot. Put my iPod in my pocket and the ear buds in my ears. Climbed out of the station wagon with an already-heavy backpack in tow. I exhaled and watched as the air in front of me billowed white and frosty.

Press play.

I took one step, wrapped up in scarf and coat and gloves. And as I walked I realized it had begun to snow. I searched my belly for the tell-tale nervous ache. The jittery feeling in my armpits (don't laugh, you know exactly what I'm talking about) or the ragged breathing. Not there.

It was then I knew I had changed. Even if just a little bit. I am different than I once was.

So I walked with more confidence through the snow as Sara Bareilles began to sing,

"Jump start my kaleidoscope heart,
Love to watch the colors fade,
They may not make sense,
But they sure as hell made me.
I won't go as a passenger, no
Waiting for the road to be laid
Though I may be going down,
I'm taking flame over burning out
Compare, where you are to where you want to be, and you'll get nowhere"

This, my friends, is what Olivia and I call a "moment". When all of a sudden you are suspended, hovering over your own world, your own body. Acutely aware and intuitively disconnected. You are made aware of the story you are intertwined in. And colors get bright. Rhythms align.

It is hard when you start a day like this not to expect more. To proceed without anticipation of a pivotal moment, of a change of circumstances. Which was what I did. Which is what happened.

So here I am. Facing a ridiculous amount of course work and a pleasant number of familiar faces. A cohort has developed before my very eyes. Every single class today met me with smiling faces, people I began this journey with. People I'll finish it with.

I am still on that long stretch of highway. I'm wallowing in a shallow pool of discontent and it's taking quite a bit of my energy. There is a temptation to compare my story to others'. To fail to be grateful for what I do have. It is so hard to know the difference between being content and God's gentle (or not so gentle) push for growth.

I've never been here before. Done this before. Words, lately, have been failing me. I have been having experiences, thoughts, dreams, wishes... none of which I can adequately put into language. It's all I really want to do. Create something. But I've been so lacking in words it wasn't until last night when I realized this is what they call "writers block". Well. At least now it has a name.

The only remedy is to live more. To walk around and love big and get all caught up in your own heart and the whole wide world. Work it loose, the bolt that's rusted, the door that's jammed. Keep moving. Keep going. Persevere. Hope.

When words (good words... creative words... effective words) come again, it will be overwhelming.

But I am in uncharted territory right now.

And it's cold.

I know, however, good things happen in the winter time. When it's time to come out on the other side of this strange, slow-moving season I may or may not understand. But as a dear friend reminded me today, it is just a season.

The ice will melt eventually.