"Memories are wonderful, but do you live differently because of them?"

Oh, memories...

They walk hand-in-hand with emotions, don't they? Without emotions, memories are simply empty words, lifeless pictures. And memories certainly aren't empty or monochromatic.

If they are, they cease to exist outside the cold mental storehouses of forgotten thoughts.

Some memories are best forgotten, people say. I don't know if I agree with that entirely; I find that my memories, even my most painful ones, are the things that help drive me, change me, and form me into a stronger, more beautiful creature. I do know, though, that memories can (and often do) trap me.

The emotions that memories carry have tendril-like fingers. They so easily wrap around your mind, your heart, your senses, lulling (or pulling) you into the belief that the emotion that was has become the emotion that is, which defines you. Memories can thus be seductresses, luring you into a false world, whispering into your ear that
 

The present is unimportant compared with the joys, the pain, and the perils of your past. The cards you've been dealt, the sorrow you remember and still feel, the happiness that you have or once had are vital to your well-being. This world is all sorrow, but glimpses of happiness await you if you remember, always remember, and never allow the present world to penetrate your stoicism. You are safe if you settle for what you've already been guaranteed -- safe if you never venture into vulnerability. Some of your memories may be painful, but that pain is familiar; the possibility -- no, the probability of new pain isn't worth the risk of wandering into unfamiliar territory...

And so we rely on remembrances to carry us through the days, stumbling about in the dark of the past as we stubbornly refuse to open our eyes and acknowledge the present light that's surrounding us. It's childish, really:


"If I can't see it, it can't see me..."

In other words, it's a lie. And yet I fall for it all the time. Vulnerability is hard to make friends with, and yet it is such a good friend. Wisdom, of course, is necessary where vulnerability with other people is concerned, but let's face it: vulnerability with oneself is rarely, if ever, a negative thing.

I don't know if I'm going in any particular direction with this post... All I know is that I have a lot to remember at this time of year. I suppose I've never stopped remembering, but milestones and anniversaries are especially meaningful to me. See, last year at this time, I was scrambling to prepare for one of the greatest adventures of my life.

A year ago, I didn't have the memories of a beautiful country called Cameroon that I do now, but I did know that I was embarking on a journey that would be unlike anything I could envision. The events leading up to that trip were a collage of memories all their own... and yet they all intertwine beautifully to tell the story of that bit of my life. Those events clicked into sequence like a chain of falling dominoes, but I was left standing at the end -- and not just standing, but boarding a plane to Africa.

I'll be writing more about those memories in the upcoming weeks, you can be certain. My hope, though, is this:

As much as I miss those beautiful people, the red earth of that country, the brilliantly indescribable stars... oh, those stars...   I don't want to simply wander in a vacuum of reminiscence. Going to Africa changed me, and the memories that I have from that experience and the past few years continue to do so. (And that's all God, by the way.) I cannot afford, though, to lose myself in the emotions and wishfulness of those memories. Remembering to learn is one thing; remembering to forget the present is another.

"Memories are wonderful, but do you live differently because of them?"

It's impossible to live differently when you trap yourself in a world of what was. God hasn't given me these memories and these emotions to simply shut myself away in a dark, nostalgic world; that would be a waste. My trip to Africa has already brought God glory, but the way that the trip has changed and is changing me is still being brought to fruition.

Yes, I miss it. Yes, I want to go back. I don't know if I will, or even what this all means, but I don't need to yet (even if I do want to know). For now, I'm where God wants me to be -- Colorado -- and I do love it here. And as excited as I am for the new things coming up for me this fall, it's still easy to get distracted by what has been...

I'm exactly where I am right now for a reason, even though I don't know exactly what that reason is. God knows what He's doing, though, and that's more than reason enough to really LIVE.

Eyes open...

"There are times when silence has the loudest voice..."

Indeed it does, Leroy Brownlow. Indeed it does. My blog remaining silent for inane amounts of time, however, is not one of those times. Then internet silence just screams, "This thing ain't goin' NOWHERE!" What I'm really trying to say here:

I'm baaa-aaaack!!!

...and I couldn't be happier about that! As stated in my previous, almost-a-month-ago post, the end of this semester was just a little crazy. Fitting 40+ hours of my 100 observation hours into the last three weeks of school, working, and attempting to keep up with my life left me little to no time (more like "no to negative time") to do anything else. Even things like spending time with you, few but faithful readers, and having the occasional date night with Bloglet have been at the bottom of my priority list.

Oh, little Bloglet, I am so sorry to shun you in your infant stages. Instead of nurturing you tenderly, I've tried, too soon, to shove you out of the nest. Unlike an eaglet who (oh-so-inspirationally) learns to soar when he falls, though, you have absent-wingedly plummeted gracelessly into the bottomless pit of the blogosphere's forgotten realms. I should have known better than to think that you'd write yourself. My sincerest apologies.

Enough of my writing to an inanimate inter-webbish entity, though. It just takes up space... and it's probably a sign of mental instability. (Comment if you must... I already know what you're thinking!)

In any case, I've dearly missed having time to relax, play, or be myself. As the old adage says, "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." I think there's a reason they didn't make that phrase about women... The terminology involved may not have been as socially appropriate, if you catch my drift!

Seriously, though, I don't relate to God, the world, or myself as well as I should when I don't give myself time to think, to dream, or to simply be still. Silence is truly golden.

For me, silence isn't simply the absence of noise. Silence is being able to think deeply and clear my mind. Silence demands introspection and forces me to admit ways in which I'm both broken and joyful. Silence is vulnerability.

And for that reason, silence is something that I try to avoid at times, even (and especially) when I know that I need it most.

~~~Silence is sitting at my piano until midnight, either following the music or, more often at that hour, allowing my fingers and my voice to express thoughts and emotions that I can't put into words. Per Marcel Marceau, "Music and silence combine strongly because music is done with silence, and silence is full of music."

~~~Silence is taking the time to write, spilling myself into the ink on a page.

~~~Silence is forcing myself to simply breathe for a while, cutting the noise, worry, and stress out of my mind for a moment so that I can actually hear what God is whispering to me.

~~~Silence is running, pounding my feet against the pavement in rhythm to my heartbeat and breathing.

~~~Silence is lingering over a cup of coffee with an old friend, laughing about old memories and delving into deep conversations.

I still don't understand why I avoid the very things that bring me so much joy and peace. I would be lying if I said I didn't know why -- like I said before, silence demands vulnerability. I am not vulnerable by nature, even with myself. In short, I'm a control freak, and I don't like exposing myself to situations in which I don't have the last say about how I feel or act. Still, though, I know how much better life is when I am vulnerable and powerless, and I know that I begin to build a barrier between myself and Jesus when I am not. Oh, my addiction to my broken human nature... I'm not a huge fan. I'm working on all of that, though... and this beautiful Spirit in me has already changed me more than I know.

I can't even tell you how excited I am for this summer! I'm still going to be plenty busy, but I have no intentions whatsoever of running myself into the ground. I don't really want to do that again, actually... I know that I probably will at some point, but self-promises aren't always futile, are they? =)

In any case, I'll be back soon. And by soon, I mean significantly sooner than the middle of next month. This whole blogging thing is fun! It has a sort of silence all its own...