a pat on the back

I was proud of myself today. I love taking things that are rejected by people, set out as trash, and giving them a new life and purpose. I love fixing things that are being neglected because they are broken, I love giving usefulness. 

In the barn there was a wheel barrow (as a kid I thought it was "wheel barrel") with a flat tire. These kinds of tires are like car tires, they have no tube. The tire seals against the rim. So to fill the tire a seal has to be made.  If a large portion of air is forced into the tire, the air itself will force the tire to seal. All I have is a small bike pump.  So I tied a string around the tire and put blocks of wood to squeeze the tire. It worked. Squeezing the tire was enough to make a seal. The wheel barrow has been rescued.

A View of Depression?

I am not sure that depression is exactly what I experience but I wanted to make an attempt at communicating what I do experience.

It seems to me that this trial that I am experiencing is maybe the hardest trial. If I had experienced something like a great job loss or another tragic event, I could rejoice in the Lord due to my relationship, experience, and foundation in him throughout the event. My trial seems to be a loss not in terms of my environment such as my job, car, or family. It seems like a loss of my relationship and experience of the Lord. I am left clinging to the foundation. This might not sound too bad because of my use of the word foundation. What I mean is that what I have is logical, and intellectual ties to the truths of the Lord. My experience has come to counter these ties (truths). I seek to think of good things, or to take it to the Lord in prayer, my experience is worry, fear, anxiety without material cause and without warning. I try to seek relationship thorough prayer but my emotions and body makes me wholly unable to see the validity in any activity, including prayer. I am left as I said before, clinging to the intellectual truth (which suddenly seems very impotent) that prayer is valuable. It seems that one type of trial is when something tragic happens and “all is well with my soul” because the Lord is unmistakably present. And my type of trial is that nothing tragic has happened but it feels like the Lord is no where to be found. 

To be accurate the tragedy of my trial seems to be the haphazard condition of my emotions. Another troubling aspect is that I find myself constantly fearing a usual trial, that is the external trials given above. The thought is that because I can’t handle the non-trial, I will have no hope in the trial. I have always believed that I had nothing to fear because no matter what happened the Lord was with me, helping me. I know this intellectually but I have a strong worry that it will feel like he isn’t there, like it seems now.

The Smell on My Bike

It is not really my bike, but I ride it. The tires are slightly flat so that they make a funny noise when I ride. My weight slightly squishes the tube. These poor man's shocks give me a smooth ride until I grimace when the rough Michigan road makes me hit the rim. 

As I ride, I smell. Riding on the current of the wind, the smell of lilacs fills my environment. It transforms the air into a sweet dessert. I ride through fruit preserve spread thickly on toast. I can feel the coarse, pitted surface of the toast against my tires. I struggle to pedal through this viscous air. 

I am suddenly hit by exhaust that fills my face. Now I am riding once again on broken roads through polluted air.

Whaaat?

I was looking for a synonym of anxious, one of the options that I found in an electronic thesaurus was “having kittens”.

I am totally having kittens over my exam this week.

Check out these one’s. I am really in a lather because of that money issue, thing. 

I’ve never been in a dither all my life, I’m cool as a cucumber. I am really on tenterhooks about my trip to the dump, I hear there are rats. 

As the Sway Calms

It feels like having an addiction to something, in this case a stable footing, then realizing that you don’t need it or want it anymore. What I love more than the fulfillment of an intense, hard to resist, desire is when the desire ceases. I find I don’t even want it. I am happier without it. On the slackline I come to the place where I let go of control-freak-ish- ness. I first tried to force a handhold out of thin air; I now relax my hands by my side, or, on the occasion, I tuck them neatly into welcoming pockets. It is a nice experience.

What begins as a shake becomes a sway. The shake feels like the ground betraying you, a sabotage of your safety. It seems “how could anyone do this?” And, “I won’t be able to do this.” This is an uncontrollable shake. It is interesting because one has to accept the shaking to proceed. At some point the shake dies down or is converted into something that feels like a close friend. This is when the addiction starts. It is a spectacular feeling, to overcome the shaking enemy and to “hang out” with the bounce, the sway, the feeling of floating. I find a desire to revisit the transformation.

The close friend is the movement of the slackline. The movement is no longer out of control but is predictable, even is used to maintain balance. I become fond of the manner in which I can move the slackline under my center of gravity. Movement used to be and enemy now is it the handhold or foothold that I was grasping at before. I was grasping wildly at the air for something that was always there touching me. I wanted something to walk beside me, but what was needed was the very thing that was under me.

Funny Times

I was balancing with the consistent sway and bounce of a slackline that was set up in the front yard. Across the street, standing as a timid pair, two siblings watched. "Hi", one said, "What are you doing?" "Walking on this," I replied. This was a small girl talking. Her brother, who appeared to have gained some confidence almost yelled, "Are you crazy?" 

I said back, "Maybe a little." The ran away. 

Save me a piece of that corn for later

I heard on the radio about this guy that thinks the world is on the brink of a change. He was saying how when people are living in history the general perception is that every change is slow. There are people that point out the real history does move slowly sometimes but is broken with periods of great, quick change.  We are about to experience one of these he says. 

I wonder what will happen? What will the future hold?