I like the past because it has already happened and because everything that has happened is static, or at least under control. Dreams are, I suppose, the funny/sad violation of that rule, the past that remains freakishly out of hand.
Spent a good part of yesterday racking my brains trying to describe freshman year to four lovely prefrosh. Trying to remember, actually.
It feels disingenuous to talk about people in my past with people in my present. When we theorize wistfully about things like separation and friendship. Because actually you and I are going to be talking to different people about us in this precise manner in just a few eye-blinks. What makes you think we’ve escaped the loop? I am tired of having this conversation because well because I guess the implications frighten me. Going about life with arms folded at the front is an act of defense, an expectation guard. It’s easier to believe that everyone leaves (your mileage may vary but everyone will leave especially if you show too much too fast), easier to be diplomatically distant-but-close and always, Nice. Nobody comes through the front.
I was taking a walk with M along shorebird a couple of weeks ago; he said something and I retorted loudly, IT’S NOT BECAUSE I HAVE TRUST ISSUES… And it came out so tinny and false that we both laughed at the meta-ridiculousness of it.
I do have trust issues. Deep ones! Maybe we all do. I am mortified by the prospect of being hurt, abandoned, left quietly to rot.
I love that this story never stops coming alive. That I – and you – get to experience fresh shocks of life and color with every honest confrontation of what the Gospel is. It gets to the root of the ugliness and performs a very deliberate and painful yank. Dead on dentistry every time. Gulping for air. Pain, not because the process isn’t saving your life but because it is. DID NOT KNOW THERE WAS LIFE AND LIFE AND LIFE LIKE THIS. Abundance and freedom and giddy full-on LIFE to be lived and loved and filled with praise. One was abandoned so the all could be swept up in a vortex of love and strength and dignity. Arms high guards down because fullness is already given, already found.