In the Thin.
1 February, 2012 § Leave a comment
I snatched a couple of brief moments the other day, finger-pecking in the middle of folders, appointments and Spanish conversations piled table high, to process with a friend of my soul. Without intending to, I realized, I have arrived at a point where (as I described to her in the email) I feel somewhat thin around the edges. An ongoing commitment to service of the other, however meaningful or rewarding, can still lend itself to fatigue, isolation and emptiness without care taken to replenish that which gives life. And yet — while I want to remember to step back and to celebrate the grounding presence of simple joys and small beauty found even in the low places — while I seek to grow in an ever enriched understanding of how exactly to love my neighbor as I love myself (seriously, the further in I dig, the more elusive a solid grasp seems to become) — I also so much desire to protest the happy-clappy, “I’ve Got Everything Together” facade that many (if not all) of us feel compelled to present to the world.
Some days it’s all lively and animated and bright inside; other days it’s hushed and quiet and gray.
I’m pretty sure that’s OK.