Harsh Realizations

Foreign languages are difficult. I took years of French and  used Rosetta stone and have done Duolingo, but none of that really prepared me for getting off the train in Paris and not find anyone who spoke English. Now having been here a week I've learned to communicate much better; some most people turn out to be fairly patient once I stumble through " Desole, mon francais est mauvais." So I feel like I've gotten much better, I can communicate what I want at a market, ask a few questions, order food, but yesterday I went to the post office. It isn't the same as an American post office. That might seem obvious the office in question being in France, but they do more than just mail at La Poste here. There is a national bank of some sort, the do mail, they sell wireless phone service, copying, 3d printing, and what else I'm not sure. So imagine a post office, Verizon, bank, and Kinko's all rolled into one, crammed in a small space filled with people in long lines who don't consider it necessary to shower daily, then make it all another languages. Thankfully a women with a shirt that said "Bienvenue" was doing triage. So it seems like even if you are French you would find it confusing, they have a greeter to help head off any problems or disorientation. It's exhausting trying to take care of anything in a foreign country. I get why immigrants have such a hard time and I imagine impatient Americans who have the luxury of growing up with English and the presumption to demand they speak in better English or leave are super frustrating. It's hard work to communicate when you don't know the language very well. What's worse is that when you are only able to carry on the kind of conversation a 5 year old might and your brain starts forming thoughts in that language, but with a 5 year old's vocabulary you're limited to juvenile thoughts; you start to go a little crazy thinking you have begun to regress in intelligence. Couple self doubt with the seemingly insurmountable brick-wall of bureaucracy in a foreign language and that's enough to make any furious. I am thankful people here have been a patient as they are, and next time someone in America has a hard time communicating what they want I'm going to try a little harder to figure it out.

Delusions of grandeur

April 10, 2016

One of my fears regarding my future is, am I not meant to do something more. I've been given a lot. I have more than I understand how to be responsible with. Money isn't what I'm talking about. I mean time and ability. I could devote my time and energy to many different things and because I don't have to for the sake of money, I have taken my time and tried to look at all the options. Too many options. I seem to be experiencing a new kind of paralysis, that of indecision. What if I pick something and decide I hate it? Was the time and money and effort put forth to that end wasted? Yesterday Sam and I were on a bus and as the doors were closing a kid who has just learned to run decided to bolt for the bus. As his parents talked he dashed across the sidewalk, missing the fact that the curb drops away before you get to the bus the top half of him slammed onto the floor of the bus with his legs still sticking out, now pinched in the door. The bus didn't go anywhere and his dad was really quick to grab him, but I think that's what I'm afraid of. I feel like that's what I've been doing, bolting in the direction of something I think I want without really evaluating the consequences. Sure there is some metaphor in this about being picked back up, but that kid hasn't had mush time to learn any better. I have had 29 years to learn better. I feel like I ought to have learned a thing or two, but I don't feel like I have. I either bolt like the kid or sit and miss every bus that I could climb on because I'm thinking about it too much.

I just finished Boys in the Boat last night. It was a good read, even knowing the historical outcome I found myself wondering if somehow I'd been mistaken. The suspense of what was going to happen glued the kindle to my hands. I think some of the description of the way a crew works together explains some of my distaste for team sports. It's hard to find a team or for that matter a cause that is worth pouring your all into and trusting and knowing that everyone else in the boat or group is doing the same. I don't want to be overcommitting if everyone else is only half-assing it. And I suppose I feel guilty if I don't really believe in the goal. I would like to find a goal and team that could really buy into. I think that is some of the attraction of start-ups and owning one's own business. You can define your goal and surround yourself with others who agree. Well I sucked at that. I defined my goal, sort-of started a company and then became disillusioned and stopped. I'm not sure what is next, I'm not sure if what I speak of desiring here could be found in being an art teacher. I'll keep praying and perhaps try meditating on it, although I'm not entirely sure how to go about that...

April 1, 2016

I forgot April fools day was a thing, and I liked that.  

The last thing I wrote felt a little contrived. I didn't mean it to be and I'm not entirely sure I fully understand the meaning of the word, but that was my reaction.  I think because I'm weary. I've struggled with the existential purpose to my life since high school. I'm not sure I'm any closer to an answer I'm satisfied with, but I'm weary of searching. I want to go back and try something, anything, even some things I've tried before that I know to not be satisfying. I just want some semblance of a purpose.  

I don't remember what we were talking about but Sam and I were talking after the last thing I wrote and suddenly I came to the realization  that it might be possible to come to a conclusion and not like the purpose I saw before me. I think I'm a little afraid of that. Tonight we talked about a possibility. I know she hasn't been willing to tell me what to do, but I asked her for a recommendation. She echoed what I've heard for years, what I've wondered again lately, what I almost went to college for in the first place but for some reason didn't. She said art teacher, teacher of some sort at the very least. I'm not sure what scares me about that, or what scared me away from it years ago. I am ashamed that that might be a very meaningful answer for me. Ashamed that it was right in front of me years ago and I turned away, ashamed that I have spent SO much time searching and still come to no better conclusion, grander scheme or achieved much in the interim. I'm afraid that art teacher might not be the answer either though. What then? I certainly don't know. I think I'm a coward. But as I'm on another continent traveling around the world, the next step isn't enrolling in classes to finish my degree or pursuing a certificate to teach. The next step is to simply pray about it and seek counsel. That's an achievable next step.

Sam and I also began talking about location, that was cool. We have talked about St. Augustine, Florida in the past but tonight we both acknowledged that it is the first place we've encountered that we both really liked. It's all speculative and hypothetical, but that's where we're at. 

March 30, 2016

I finished The Sacred Search, and I think it was good. It was convicting and humbling. I find myself very blessed that Sam married me. I think I must owe this more to divine intervention than anything else. Reading this volume of advice on how to go about evaluating a potential spouse the thing that stood out most to me was what I was lacking and have been lacking or did lack. The list seems long, longer than the pros side of anyone who might've objectively been evaluating me. I know this sounds harsh and self-deprecating, but if the ruler by which the author suggests one evaluate a potential spouse is anywhere near accurate then my critique is also true. I think this point is also proven by the fact that I have dragged my wife on a quest to find my meaning in life. I don't have a lot of direction, and I've grown weary of that. Both halves of that are understatements. The author kept harping on 

Matthew 6:33 "But seek first the kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well." I think I can admit that I want my direction to be seeking out the kingdom of God. I think I have run from this idea for a while because frankly I don't care much for most Christians, christian attitudes, christian judgments, language, rules, and the push-y-ness of evangelicals. This doesn't apply to all, but sadly so many. Maybe part of my purpose is to live-out a little more loudly what I believe to be christlike. I'm not sure of much more, but I think it might be a piece of the puzzle. Back to the book. It was weird reading a book that was all about searching for the right mate when I've already found an amazing one and can't imagine changing, but it was useful too. It sparked some interesting conversations about what type of marriage we had had in mind. Both with respect to how we would structure our relationship and what we thought about spiritual leadership in our relationship. Apparently we had both inadvertently done a lot of assuming within our marriage. I guess that shouldn't really surprise me, we have learned at almost every juncture or decision that both

Sam and myself do a lot of assuming. Ah, well now we have some more out in the open. I guess if nothing else making all the assumption we do, gives us things to talk about, challenges to overcome and "new" ways to grow again. May we never grow bored with one another, and to that end I hope Sam and I keep making wrong assumptions. It's like a disney night-light lightbulb goes on every time I realize it now. It's familiar, makes me laugh, and only barely illuminates what I'm trying to see. I still need to fumble around or turn on a brighter light to really get a clear picture of what's going on.

So yeah I enjoyed the book, because it illuminated a little more between Sam and myself; things which I never knew might need talked out for anyone ever. I think I'll recommend it to my sister. But, it is yet again maybe only a small piece of the puzzle. Or maybe being honest about wanting to do work that shows love and is glorifying to God is more like seeing box the puzzle came in, but only in a dim, disney character shaped glow.

March 22, 2016

Here we are in London, just eight days into our journey and I am homesick. I feel eager to begin something truly meaningful. Honestly this isn't the first time I've felt this way since leaving. I even felt a little like this before we left. I long for a greater understanding of my purpose, but I am failing to see what that might be. Sam and I had a number of tense conversations as we hashed out the fact that we had completely different expectations amongst which she told me that the solution to my angst is obvious to her; she'd told me that before. Others have uttered the very same sentiment, but where Sam stopped short at telling me what to do others have opined and disappointed. It's funny that the person who would probably have the most accurate answer to my query is the one who refuses to answer. She knows me more intimately than I would've imagined myself capable of allowing.

(she be sneaky like that) Because she knows me, well enough to satisfy my consternation; she also knows that whether she has the answer or not, I can't be told what to do. Is that a character flaw? I don't believe it to be. I'm proud of my insistence on questioning what is, what is assumed, and what is expected. But today and many days as of late, it has caused me to question my existence. I'm learning that such a question left unanswered for to long festers, oozes, and decays like an infection at the soul.

When I told Sam that I had finished Frankl's book and was dissatisfied with the conclusion she seemed a little surprised. It wasn't that my frustration over not having figured out an answer surprised her, and it certainly wasn't that Frankl hadn't answered the question; that was a forgone conclusion to her. She was surprised that I ever had any expectation of a concrete, "here's YOUR path" kind of answer. I must be desperate... I'm longing for an easy way out.

I've begun reading a book despite not understanding what the point for me is. It's a book directed at people who are dating, engaged or single and hoping to be in a wonderful God-fearing marriage. I don't remember how it came up on my kindle but I read the blurb about it, and it resonated with something in me toward my search for a meaning so I read more. Now despite being most wonderfully in a marriage to an incredible woman who shares my faith and pushes me to reach the potential that she recognizes beyond the point which I am satisfied or content, I am reading

a book about evaluating the why you got married and finding a good soul mate. Perhaps there is an obvious reason I might've been drawn to this, but I seem to yet be blind to it. I think I must be prone to missing the forest for the trees. I read the alchemist and was terrible bored, I believe because I missed it. When I was in college, I was a part of a facilitation team, and during training we were doing a blindfolded activity. I loved being blindfolded, forced to discern my surrounding by acutley tuning other senses and really FEELING. It was a maze and we had to find our way out, but if at any point we were done we just put up our hand and someone came and took us out. I really like being blindfolded and given a task to complete. Many people dropped out, and I began to lead the only

contingent of other participants still in the maze. Then the facilitator stopped the exercise. We took off our blindfolds and saw that there hadn't been another way out. In the discussion about the activity afterward one of my best friends, now also my brother-in-law, pointed out that at one point I had explained to the people I was leading that we had gone all the way around the perimeter and that I had a good mental picture of that, but I want to build the center of the maze in my head as well. Talk about the blind leading the blind. I knew that the perimeter was closed, but couldn't see that that meant there wasn't a way out. Frankl talked about his disagreements with some of his contemporaries. Some fellow psychologists believed that man simply had to endure the meaninglessness of life and go on in search of pleasure. Frankl wrote that instead it is our inability to grasp the meaningfulness of all

aspects of life which we must endure. So on I read into a book that to me makes no sense on my journey, taking some small bit of hope that there is a useful meaning to it. And on I wander hoping and praying that with each revolution I come a bit closer to at least a partial revelation, but today I am probably missing the forest for the trees.

A bundle of thoughts...

So Sam and I are on a journey, and one of my goals is to learn about myself and hopefully find something fulfilling I want to pursue. I think something I want out of life is to be known a little better... to that end:

March 19, 2016

I hate journaling. I like the idea of it and know that it would/will probably benefit me, 

but I hate actually doing it. Perhaps it is because I've needed to better condense, corral, distill 

and understand my thoughts for a long time. I need to do a little word vomiting. 

After all, I am going through an existential crisis.

I finished Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning. I loved it, but was initially disappointed. 

I read it to be given an answer to my question of "What is the meaning of life?" Instead Frankl (I wish notepad had italics so that I could in a little way communicate my annoyance with the man) insists that while the question is an honest one, I am not the person to be asking it. In order for my life to have meaning it must be a meaning of my choosing. Instead of asking the question, I am to answer the question: "What is the meaning of my life?"

I believe I must've realized on some level that I must be the one answering the question, but I was still hoping there might have been an easier way. When people would ask me why I was excited to travel or what I wanted to learn or achieve the most honest answer I could ever give was to understand the why of different peoples. Essentially I wanted to pose the question Mr. Frankl directs at me to everyone I might meet so that I might better determine what I wanted my answer to be.

In exploring Reykjavik the last few days with Sam, we discovered a small photo gallery called Reykjavik Fotografi. It's on one of the main commercial streets within sight of the big landmark cathedral, the entrance is a decent step up over the threshold of a door that only open most of the way. Old analog cameras dangle in droves about the walls and when I asked Ari, the photographer, what camera he used to shoot his pictures he made a sweeping gesture to the room then went to the corner to flip the record in the player. I continued to inquire about some of the images that spoke to me more than others and learned that Ari has been capturing images of daily life in Reykjavik for decades. I was enthralled to discover that someone who liked a number of the things that I enjoy could seem to have found meaning in his art and in one place for such a long time; perhaps there is hope for me yet.

Despite my annoyance with having my question redirected Frankl became one of my favorite authors within five pages. His writing and experiences were daunting and honest and I have never heard any explanation of suffering and the experiences therein that I could more relate to than his. Which sounds a little naive and conceited because he went through the holocaust, but then perhaps I am naive and conceited. I am a rich cripple who hardly ever has to do anything he doesn't want to. 

It seems as though that might be amended here, not necessarily in Iceland, but on our trip. Three days in and three thousand miles away from the home that we left; we realized how poorly we had communicated our expectations and desires with one another. Yet again we have made some BIG life decision all while being on very different proverbial pages. I wanted to delve into everyday life and the why of people from different cultures and she wanted to do and see all the amazing things that all the world has to offer. I'd be content to stay, watch, tilt my head and tune my ear, learn to put my finger on the pulse of a few cultures even if that meant that I didn't see all or any of the sights. Sam's hopes were very different, perhaps that because she already has a good understanding of why. I think that maybe her meaning is to love her family, and so she wants to travel and see the world and enjoy all the exotic locales and foods and get back home to continue with her raison d'etre. I guess we

will just have to learn to be better at compromising and maybe communicating.