Post 97

Let's try this again, now, shall we?

You remember Post 67? I remember Post 67; you better believe I do--only time in my life that I've ever cussed. But that's not the reason I remember it. The reason I remember Post 67 is because it's also the only time in my life that I've ever shouted something publicly that I later came to regret. But I don't really regret it because I can look back on it now and see just how much these past two months have changed me--they've changed me a lot and very quickly (to demonstrate just how quickly, let me point out Post 69, which was written less than a week later). And now I have a piece to say that I'm pretty sure I'll never regret because now I think I'm actually on to something.

Tonight I watched Tucker: The Man and His Dream. I love that movie for all the same reasons that I love Holiday--because they both tell the story of a dreamer stuck in a cruel world, and they both end happily, leaving us viewers with at least a little hope for the future. Hope is what the world really needs right now. Whenever I really get to thinking about it, I get so lost, wondering whether there is any hope to be had for such a God-forsaking (not forsaken, forsaking) world.

But there is. I know there is, and I want you to know that there is too.

I have had a most interesting week. It all started last Friday night at about 2am. I hadn't gone to bed yet, and I was procrastinating doing so, so I hoped online to check my email. As luck would have it, a dear friend of mine happened to be online at that time, and we chatted a bit. I had had an inkling for several days previous that not all was well with this particular friend, and this late-night chat confirmed that. A somewhat melodramatic (at least on my part) conversation ensued (dominated by a 400-word monologue from yours truly), and, by the end of it, I was honestly shaking. I bid my friend a good night and went to the kitchen to try to get myself calmed down. I stood there for a while, leaning my forehead against the wall, thinking that what I had just written merited bashing my head in but feeling like I had done the right thing. After several minutes, I went back into my bedroom and told my roommate that I had a friend who was having some troubles and that I wanted so desperately to help out somehow but felt totally unable to do so and was therefore feeling pretty down and out, and then I asked him whether he was up for giving me a blessing. He obliged me, and what proceeded probably changed the entire course of my life.

The blessing began with assurance that I wasn't useless and that I actually do more good than I am aware of. I was admonished to remember the power of faith in blessing the lives of others and told that I ought to pray--and even fast, if I felt so inclined--for those I cared about.

And then there was a pause, and the blessing totally changed focus. A sort of gentle chastisement followed in which the Lord said that there was something else that He wanted me to be fasting and praying about--something He had already told me to fast a pray about--and that I really needed to get on that.

I knew, of course, what He was talking about. I don't feel like relating to you the backstory as to how I knew, but I assure you that I did know: He wanted me to fast and pray concerning my educational and career goals.

So, after the blessing was over, I grabbed my scriptures, Patriarchal Blessing, and some stuff to take notes with and headed out to the kitchen table, where I spent until 4am in passionate prayer, study, and notetaking.

The next day was Saturday, and I spent the whole of it fasting and seeking to expand my knowledge of what options were open to me. On Sunday, I took a break from questing, but I really got to work on Monday. What started out as a crisis slowly transformed into an adventure, and I have actually quite enjoyed it.

I haven't reached any conclusions that are solid enough to share as to what I will be when I grow up, but I think it's pretty safe to say that I will not be a High School English teacher. My concept of the future in that regard is slowly being refined. I don't know where I'll ultimately end up, but I have the Divine assurance now that I'm on the right track.

So for the past week, I have been entirely absorbed by two major pursuits: 1) trying to figure out what it is I want to work toward becoming and 2) spending a lot of time praying for that friend of mine. It has been, as I said, quite an adventure.

But then an interesting thing happened last night. Once again, I found myself being up and about for no good reason at nearly 2am on a Friday night, and I once again decided to check my email, and once again that friend was online--first time since the last Friday night. This chat was much more lighthearted than the previous one, but it concluded with some pretty devastating news. This blog is far too public a medium for me to tell you in even very vague terms what this news was, so suffice it to say that, though the news was not tragic in the traditional sense, it did cause me to be incapacitated by sobbing for the next couple hours. After the initial shock wore off enough for me to feel emotion, I went outside and sprinted so fast that my tears ran straight from my eyes into my ears. My stamina being what it is, though, that didn't last for more than a couple blocks, at which point I leaned against a wall to gasp for breath, too physically exhausted to actually cry. But the sobs caught up to me eventually, and I spent a long time wandering the dark street, crying like a baby and praying in broken fragments as audibly as I could muster, and occasionally plopping down on a curb to cry good and hard. After about an hour of that, I managed to stagger back to my apartment, where I stripped naked, lied down in the midst of a warm shower, and sang every hymn I know while I bawled my eyes out. Finally, at a quarter to four, the hymns won out over the tears, I was filled with peace, and I went to bed.

This really is ridiculous. Honestly, I have no idea why the news (which, as I mentioned, was not truly tragic) impacted me so dramatically. I had no idea I cared so much about anything; I certainly didn't know that I cared so much about this. I don't cry. It isn't something I do much. I was a moody teenager who cried an awful lot, but the last time I can remember really crying was in January 2005. Those tears were motivated by some pretty intense family issues, but even they were nothing compared to the total incapacitation I suffered last night. Frankly, I'm embarrassed to relate last night's collapse to you, but I'm hoping doing so will be somehow therapeutic, and I do have a point to make.

These are my pearls, dear readers; please don't be swine.

Today, I have managed to maintain a delicate state of emotional Zen. Though I constantly feel on the verge of crying, I seem to be holding up pretty well. Though I have absolutely no concept of how things will work out in the end, I have full confidence that they will.

So here's the part where this becomes relevant to you. A few weeks ago, I could have told you with some confidence what I imagined myself doing in one month, six months, a year, five years, ten years, or even 50 years from now. My goals weren't clearly defined, but I at least had some vague notion of what I wanted to do with my life--something like being a barefooted neo-Socrates, going about, corrupting the minds of the youth in the best ways possible. I wanted to live poor, just barely scraping by, and I wanted to die, the unsung hero of some great cause. These desires, at least that particularly extreme rendering of them, are completely gone from me now. I realized a couple of weeks ago that, though I'm perfectly willing and even happy and eager to live in poverty, I am not so willing and certainly not happy and eager to wish that future upon whoever it is I end up marrying or upon the children we may have. Oh, I intend to touch and change the lives of as many people as I possibly can, and I still have hopes that the world will one day desire to read the things that I write (some of the poetry I composed this past week was, as you might imagine, pretty passionate). But I don't want to spend my life bleeding for a living--and a lousy living at that. Not that I have ambitions to be a CEO or a lawyer, and I still don't desire a life of luxury--honestly, I don't know what my occupation will be. But I rest assured, knowing that God is in control and that, so long as I stay close to Him, even when the road of life has hairpin turns like these past couple weekends, I'll be okay.

A passage from Mormon has been on my mind these past several days. Speaking to us here in these days, he said this:

"O ye Gentiles, how can ye stand before the power of God, except ye shall repent and turn from your evil ways? Know ye not that ye are in the hands of God? Know ye not that he hath all power, and at his great command the earth shall be rolled together as a scroll? Therefore, repent ye, and humble yourselves before him" (5:22-24).

I always thought I understood this, but now it is a lot more real to me. God really is control, and I guess you can fight against Him if you really want to, but it really is very hard to "kick against the pricks" (Acts 9:5). I suppose that, sooner or later, every good Christian has to come to the conclusion that God's thoughts and plans are different from ours, but, ultimately, His way is always better (see Isaiah 55:8-9).

I really have no idea what the future holds in store for me. Heck, I'm excited just to see what tomorrow will bring (of course, I have reason to believe that tomorrow will teach me many things, but every day is a new adventure--it sounds trite, but that's the way I am living right now). I am reminded of the words to a hymn penned by Cardinal Newman (one of the many I sang last night in the shower):

Lead, kindly Light, amid th'encircling gloom;
Lead thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home;
Lead thou me on!
Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene--one step enough for me.

So, that's where I'm at right now. Instead of looking ahead to the future and gritting my teeth with fear, I'm looking ahead and stepping out in faith. And even though I'm standing in the remains of so many shattered dreams, I am filled with hope that God has something better in the works. Sure, I'm feeling a little bit exposed and reprimanded, but I know that God loves me and that, no matter what little sacrifices He calls upon me to make, in the end, I will look back and fall on my knees to thank Him.