I promised myself I'd write at least two entries a week into this blog, but it seems over the last fortnight (thank you Merriam-Webster Word of the Day!), I've not been the least bit interested in anything spiritual. So, here I sit with Pulp Fiction on the TV and a glass of the sacrament close at hand forcing myself to write something about the mystical movement of the ether. It's tough though when I'm on a bit of a “break” with God. It's not that I want freedom to see other Deities (sorry Vishnu). It's just that recently I've been more interested in good coffee and trying to figure out what my next career move should be, than I've been in contemplating the mysteries of the Almighty.
I spent last week in the northeast, experiencing the bustle of Boston, the majesty of Maine, and the futon of my in-laws (thanks again!). While there I got to swim at the beautiful beach in Ogunquit. The back of the lifeguard stand had a white board listing the water temp (56 shrivel-inducing degrees), and the exact times of the high and low tides. I found it amazing that they could predict, to the minute, when high and low tide would occur. But cycles are more or less predictable, and found everywhere. And that's why I'm not too freaked out about my spiritual malaise. I know how I operate. I've heard the stories of people on fire for God 24/7. That has never been me. I go through periods where all I can think about is God and I see her thumb print everywhere. And invariably, those times are followed by cooling off periods. I used to think my task was to fight through those times and make myself feel passionate for the Almighty. This led to frustration, guilt, acting out, more guilt, despair, anger, and more acting out; ah the joys of the spiritual walk :).
Now, whether through maturity or laziness, I'm more apt to let those times work themselves out as I sit back and watch. You can't make the tide come in or go out any quicker, and as my dad told me (repeatedly), "Don't push the river, Chris, it flows by itself." So this is me not pushing the river. All we can ever offer God is exactly who we are. Sometimes I have the desire to dedicate everything to him; and sometimes it's only the desire to have the desire. Today, it's the latter. Tomorrow, who knows. In the meantime, I'll choose to believe I'm loved regardless, and keep open to any subtle spiritual nudgings that might come my way. See you at high tide.
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