Personal Damascus

This past Wednesday, I attended a church service where the preacher discussed the story of Saul and his journey to Damascus. In case you're unfamiliar with this Bible story, Saul is a persecutor of early Christians who lost his sight after an encounter with Jesus. In order to be healed, he has to travel to the city of Damascus while blind. He eventually makes it, is healed, and repents for his crimes, changing his name to Paul and becoming one of the most recognized figures of Christianity.

To be honest, I haven't been too friendly with God lately. At times, I've felt that instead of testing me to make me a better person, God has just been trying to turn me into more and more of a cynic. I know my tendency toward hopeless romanticism can sometimes be my downfall, but is it really necessary to crush every last trace of it? This growing pessimism is definitely becoming a problem regarding romantic relationships. Whenever I meet someone who interests me, a part of me thinks, "this is too good to be true," and every time I've thought this, that part has been right. So far, my fears about relationships have only been justified, and I wonder how many more years I'll have to wait before they're finally disproved. I've been told that each negative experience can be a good thing, that each failed relationship is a lesson learned, and in a sense, I know it's true, but it hurts so much to hear that. I think it's because this advice dehumanizes the person you lost and takes the life out of what you experienced with them, or at least that's what it feels like. You want so much to have a real and lasting connection with a person, to hear and see and feel them next to you, but instead they become just another "lesson learned"--not a person anymore, but a moment, a concept, a page in your life never quite turned. They've dissolved from a living person inhabiting your life into a wisp of wisdom. They still live somewhere in the clouds of your mind, but they've floated far above your fingers.

In the past, I've rarely complained about being single, despite various romantic misfortunes. In fact, for a time I thought being single was rather fun. I enjoyed the independence and the excitement of going out and meeting people. I'd hear other people bemoan their singleness and think: "What's the big deal? It's not so bad." But now I fully understand how they feel. It's like the line in that Janis Joplin song "Me and Bobby McGee": "Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose." Why does it hurt so much more than it used to?

Anyway, back to the church service. The preacher, when discussing Saul's transformation from hopeless sinner to model Christian, essentially made the point that God's vision is infinitely vast compared to our own, and that He sees things about us and our future that we could never know. The preacher also emphasized that in order to become the person God wanted him to be, Saul had to undergo a complete and painful transformation: from someone able-bodied and politically powerful, to a sickly, blind man completely reliant on those around him. I do feel like this message spoke to me, but not in the deep, mighty, voice-of-God-like way you might expect. It felt more like a gentle nudge, or a tap on the shoulder. It wasn't life-changing, but felt like it could be the beginning of a long sequence of things that could ultimately be life-changing. I hope so. I want to believe this brokenness is supposed to make me a better person. I guess it already has, in a small way; I've been more creative since my last relationship ended than I've been in months. My job is offering more opportunities, I'm blogging regularly, and I even wrote a song. I just wish I weren't doing all these things to fend off loneliness and regret; it would be nice to always have the motivation to be creative for its own sake.

Tonight, I walked down to the pond near my house and saw the unusually clear sky. Stars glittered over the black water and lacy silhouettes of trees. Sometimes I wish the future were as clear as that sky.  I hope there's a bright horizon up ahead that I'm just not tall enough to see. I hope I'm on the road to my own personal Damascus.                

When Lives Collide

Last Friday, I saw the film Bagdad Cafe (1987) for the first time, sitting with my laptop in the nook under the stairs in my apartment (the roommates call it the "Harry Potter corner," for obvious reasons). It's a wonderfully dark and intimate space for immersing yourself in the world of a movie. With this particular film, I was immersed in the American southwest, far away from the trees and snow of home. I won't describe all the details of Bagdad Cafe, other than the fact that it's a great film and you should see it, but it reminded me of the incredible things that can happen in life through unexpected encounters with strangers.

It's amazing to think about the possibilities that come with meeting someone new. You could be sitting on a bus, going to school or work as usual, or having a cup of coffee in some cafe in the middle of nowhere, when the seat next to you happens to be the only one left. The person who fills that seat might only converse for a moment and leave, but they could also change your life forever. They could lift and drag you to emotional heights and depths you haven't seen in years. They could break the chains on things you've bound, or they could make you question what you've always thought to be true. They could remain a part of your life forever, or they could suddenly vanish and leave you feeling lonely, thankful, or both. You really never know what can happen, and the mystery of it is thrilling and beautiful. I've had such encounters before, and even when they ultimately bring more sadness than joy, I'm still amazed that I could meet someone who would have such a big impact on my life by just being in the right place at the right time. I guess when you have thousands of small universes (aka humans) constantly running, rolling, and drifting down the streets of your town, they're bound to collide and cause incredible reactions. This explains my tendency to try to be in too many places at once--there are nights when I can't stand the idea of sitting at home because there's so much life outside. I love watching and experiencing these human collisions. They're what great stories are made of.

Unfortunately, tonight doesn't seem to be the night for life-altering experiences. You know money's tight when it's Friday night and you're sitting alone in your living room with sleeping guinea pigs and Guy Fieri instead of tearing up the town. On the bright side, I recently had some more writing published. This time, it's a review of the wonderful Clockwork Cabaret podcast. Also, I obviously have guinea pigs now. Not only are they cute and cuddly, but the fact that rodents can have such nuanced personalities is unbelievable. Hopefully I'll have some more exciting adventures as the weekend progresses, but for now I'll settle for watching the tiny lights in the distance from my apartment deck, wondering who or what is out there waiting to change my life.