But what does it all mean?

Sometimes I am one of those people. I long to believe that there is some greater understanding, some big abstract lesson that I am in the middle of learning. It is just a matter of time until it all becomes clear.

Of course this isn't so. Not in my opinion, anyway.

So I am reviewing my past year in my head tonight. Pennsylvania, California, Wisconsin, Colorado, Tennessee...I travelled around a little bit. I managed to keep my job which, in this economy, is no small thing.

I painted my bedroom and this summer succeeded in not getting a letter from my town compelling me to cut my grass.

And yet this year has flown by, it seems, and nothing truly significant happened to me. My life hasn't changed, I've not been transformed.

Can that really be?

It's just life. In times of upheaval the mundane is so appealing. And then you get there...

I dislike feeling frustrated like this--my inner dialogue (yeah, I talk to myself, back off) is full of "should"s and "would"s and "ought"s. If I were truly successful my life would look like "this." To be happy I really should try this. If I were willing to risk anything at all I ought to try...

What is with this inner craving for more?

Part of me thinks that it's heaven. We're never truly satisfied in this life because deep in our souls is buried a glimmer of the beyond, the mirage of this life that should, would, ought and will be all that we imagine and then so much more.

I believe that. I want to believe that.

I get in these moody, melancholy modes sometimes. When I do I reread all my email. I think this may be my favorite sentence I've written this year:

But I see the world as God's creation, redeemable if not redeemed with beauty, love and glimpses of God to be found in it.

I was writing to a friend describing another friend of mine's disenchantment with this whole life thing (and the pain of love). My email buddy and I went on to talk about how it takes a certain courage, or strength of [heart | soul] to view the world that way.

I'm feeling more like the cowardly lion these days. It isn't the trauma of life that frightens me. It's the prospect of a seemingly eternal number of gray days.

I'll probably be manic next week.