People of the Heart

The days are long now. I don't mean anything having to do with seasons. I just mean that I feel disturbed that the moon is shining a greeting to me in the morning as I walk to food service and it is shining again when I get to bed at night. And the hours in between are full of activities and challenges that pull at my brain like it's silly putty (which it feels like at this point). I hope it will harden up a little by the end of the semester.

Tonight I tried multitasking by doing stretches and reading an assignment at the same time. It worked pretty well because I sort of forgot what I was doing and stretched back and forth for a long time. I'll probably be quite aware of it tomorrow.

Speaking of stretching, we did Danish Gymnastics in PE the other day. When I tell people about it and act excited they want to know how it's different from other gymnastics, say, Finnish ones. I guess I wouldn't know, seeing as I've never had Finnish gymnastics or any other kinds of gymnastics. All I know is that one of the few somewhat reasonable compensations for having to be at class at 8:00 in morning on a mournfully rainy and chill day is listening to good music. And since we, as beginners, did only very simple moves, (not ones you have to bust out, but just gentle ones) it was incredibly relaxing.

Today I visited my Archaeology professor, because she offered bonus points to anyone who would come see her at her office this week and bring some object that is dear to them as a conversation piece. She's cool like that. She said some people have brought their sisters before. I couldn't bring my sister because she is about a 1000 miles away right now, so I settled for my big, beautiful blue and gold Islamic art book, since that's what I wanted to ask her about generally anyway.

I still am uncertain about my major. I just know what makes me feel alive. It's a little complicated because I love Jesus so much and I'm entirely committed to Him, while all the while I'm going giddy over Islamic architecture. My logical side says this can't work, but some little voice inside me says it's supposed to be this way. What's a girl to do? Nobody offer trite platitudes, please; I've already thought through them.

But for now I'm not going to worry. Luckily I've got time to make the decision. And as T.S. Eliot wrote in The Love Song of Alfred Prufrock: "In a minute there is time/For decisions and revisons which a minute will reverse." Even if this four year education business threatens to push me into becoming someone I don't want to become. I'm not talking about religion here, I'm talking about the toughness you have to assume in order to get through it all. I don't want to become hardened at all. I wonder if I have to. I wonder if I really want to go where this path logically leads me. I wonder if I can survive the "real world" and why I would want to anyway if it's just about achievement and getting your rights.

Tonight I was reading a book that a fellow student loaned me by a guy named Osho. The book, called Intuition, made me sad at some places, but it did have some interesting points. Osho said:

"[The heart] knows love, but love is not a commodity of any use in the world. It knows beauty, but what are you going to do with beauty in the marketplace? The people of the heart-- the painters, the poets, the musicians, the dancers, the actors,-- are all irrational. They create great beauty, they are great lovers, but they are absolutely unfit in a society that is arranged by the head."

As I researched for my Peace Research Project today about the heated issue of the Islamic Center in Lower Manhattan, I struggled between sets of information and ideas that oppose each other and yet both seem plausible to me. I am quick to see the reasoning behind both sides of an argument, which makes me a great sympathizer and a horrible debater. It's a blessing and a curse. Sometimes I feel guilty for not making up my mind about my "convictions." To some people the issues are so clear cut, but I feel that they are so layered and nuanced I'm likely to drown, suffocate, or run screaming from the room before I ever come to a conclusion.

It was in the midst of this that I felt a great welling up of God's love for me, right where I sat at my desk this afternoon. In my mind I could see a stream flowing over rocks, and I sensed God saying that He made me this way and He has grace for my slow processing, my malleability. I am the water flowing around the rocks; the rocks are the solid ones who are standing on beliefs that are clearly marked out to Him. All of us are necessary to Him. He doesn't see me as betraying Him, but seeking deeper than the surface. He is there. He will not leave me. I trust His leadership.

A Bit of Solace

I love families. Can I say that again? I love families. And if I can't be with my own family, it's somewhat of a solace to be tucked away in the hills of eastern Kentucky for a weekend with my room mate and her family. Putting roots down in Appalachia.

This morning the ridge behind the house sits solemn and overcast under a bank of clouds, and raindrops hang on tree branches. Outside the kitchen window the dogwood tree is full of red berries. I feel that red berries will be the ticket to my survival through a long winter. Not eating them, just feasting my eyes on something of good cheer against this untellin' lonesomeness.

"Untelling" is a word I picked up from Brittany. She's an Appalachian Studies major and knows these things. I love it and think it should be in Websters. Where my mom might say, "How many hours of sleep do you think you'll get this week," and I would reply, "There's no tellin,'" I'd say instead, "It's untellin.'"

It's getting cold outside. The birds are jumping around in the dogwood tree nibbling at the berries. Inside, I'm at the kitchen table and can hardly say how pleased I am to be in the center of a house full of a family, Brittany and her parents and two sisters and Michael, her boyfriend. In a few hours, after a warm home-cooked meal, it's back to The Bubble for us. But small delights go a long way. I won't give up hope just yet.