Story Seeds

I've realized that I have a problem that needs solving.

I've been catching up on my free reading lately. C.S. Lewis, Donald Miller, and others have made the recent list, and my stack of books now all sport little clusters of index cards/post-its marking interesting things.

Problem is, there's three books (none of which are mine – all are borrowed) each with probably 20 markers. I remember all those things being interesting, but have no way to track them, especially if I want to return the books (which I do).

So far, my best solution is to record all the excerpts into a file, and number them for tracking. After debating a numbering protocol to track title, author or other info, I think the simplest would just be a sequential “serial number”, with groups demarcated by title/author in my master file.

If you have any better ideas, I'd love to hear them.

Now when you start seeing numbered quotations on my blog entries, you'll know what they are.

Sinkhole

"You don't need to bother
I don't need to be
I'll keep slipping farther
Once I hold on I won't let go till it bleeds"
-Stone Sour, "Bother"

Not its alliterative brother [poop]hole; that'd be different.

I was actually almost on time to church this morning, walking into first service only 3-5 minutes late. I prefer to be there early enough to get my coffee and bagel first, but my alternate plan includes partaking of said breakfast after first service during the gap. Today was no exception; I double-dipped worship, ate breakfast, and put off going to work all in one fell swoop.

Sitting in the church lobby, the music felt distant and muffled. The sounds of people milling about and the general hard acoustics of the room muddled the music, lessening the impact into just over a dull roar. It felt like my life - distant, muffled, covered by a dull roar.

My life feels like a sinkhole today. It's like a deep hole crumbling away to nothing has opened up in the middle of my heart. You can build over it (with some engineering) or near it (with less engineering), but eventually all crumbles and falls in. Block after block of buildings, all doomed as the unstable terrain underneath deteriorates. I keep thinking that God is building stuff into my life, but then the days come when it all crumbles into the blackness. Sinkholes open up over a known type of geography, but the exact location, severity, and timing are all random. So is my life - sometimes I know the areas that are weak/unstable, but the collapses still catch me unaware.

The hole I observe isn't even "post-Mary". Yeah, there's a crater there that's mostly stopped smoking. I think, though, that the results of that particular implosion are merely annexes to a deeper, more central hole. Caused by what, I have no idea.

Last year when a sinkhole opened up in Guatemala City, I was struck by how dark and bottomless the picture looked. Judge for yourself:



Eventually they measured the depth somewhere around 30 stories, but I don't remember what mad science it took to figure that out. For the hole in my life, nobody knoweth the depth thereof. And I'll tell you right now that I'm not interested in being the one to take "a big step" and find out. Instead the blackness just continues on down.

I know some people who have walked away from the craters of their past. I know at least one who has taken a running leap back to theirs. I desperately want to be one of the former rather than the latter, but I feel stuck in the middle and unable to move. Donald Miller talks about this in the book I'm reading right now. He analogizes it to paddling across a large body of water:

"At some point the shore behind you stops getting smaller, and you paddle and wonder why the same strokes that used to move you now only rock the boat.
[...]
The shore you left is just as distant, and there is no going back; there is only the decision to paddle in place or stop, slide out of the hatch, and sink into the sea. Maybe there's another story at the bottom of the sea. Maybe you don't have to be in this story anymore."
(A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, page 178)

(Emily, I still hate your book, but now it's for times like this where I read something, then turn around to see it in my life. I declare, that book is going into the wall one of these days. SHOOM! Straight through the drywall...)

I'm preparing to think about how to make "amends" to those I have hurt in my life. (Step 8 of the "12 Steps" - I'm currently on Step 4, so I'm thinking ahead) One of the small group discussion questions inquired as to "...my biggest fear about facing the harm that I have done." Simply put, I don't want to rappel into the sinkhole. I want to walk away from it, not go back to living in the darkness.

I feel as if I'm wandering through life as a ghost, with the empty hole either covered over or fenced off. When people I'm acquainted with ask me how I am today, I answer "Good!", which is mostly true. It's a nice day, I have next to nothing to do, and God takes care of me. And yet answering something more negative would also be true - the profound emptiness inside slowly but steadily grows. It's like the Shadow from Inkheart. There's not good or bad, just _nothing_.

Supposedly God fills all needs in your heart. If so, why isn't He? He owns my Sundays for church, some Sundays for children's ministry, my Friday nights, my Tuesday nights, my free time for writing or small group homework, my here-and-there time as I try to walk with Him through my day, but yet my life is empty.

God fills your heart except for the part meant for people, so I'm working that one too. I've spent 3 evenings this week with friends and spent parts of most days with long ongoing text conversations. Yet, that doesn't fill the void either.

Maybe all the "your life is complete if you have X, Y, and Z" teaching is voodoo and make-believe.

I hate having to go to work today. I was short on work hours this week, so I had to go in this afternoon to make it up. The bother isn't exactly that I have to go to work, (which I don't mind) or the tasks I have to do (as tasks go, today's weren't bad). It's that I can use work to run from or hide from my "real life", and this is a particularly unfortunate time to have to work when I'd rather purposefully not run. Today seems like a reasonably good day to sit and ponder (or glower, as you prefer).

"Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God."
-Psalm 42:11

Apparently, though, as the quote from "Gladiator", he will save me, "but not yet"...

I have a pretty good idea why (which involves another helping of Miller), but just because I know the why (material for another post) doesn't mean I understand or accept it.

Darkness.

Hole. Cavern.

Yet, praise.

??

Tales From the Road Part 1

[I took a weekend trip to Raton, NM for a shooting competition. My mind was rather full on the drive down, so naturally, I'm sharing with you. All dates are relative to Saturday the 3rd.]

“So we beat the roads until they were ours...”
-Tim Weilert, untitled poem

I've been doing a lot of driving lately. Over the past couple years, there's been many trips to Colorado Springs (many short trips), but lately I've been doing fewer trips that are longer. I blame Appleseed – only counting shooting events, I've made two day-trips east of Brighton, two day-trips to Pawnee National Grasslands (east of Ault and Nunn), a week-long trip to Ramah, a day-trip to Leadville, and now a weekend trip to Raton. Raton is by far the longest trip (260-some miles), and I've had lots of time to think in the car. Such is a blessing and a curse of being single and driving alone – lots of time to think.

Hereafter doth follow a collection of thoughts from my drive, some with exegesis and some not. I found some of them enlightening and some just plain entertaining. Hopefully you also find one sentiment or the other... It's rather stream-of-consciousness sorted by time and collated a little for clarity.

After planning with Gas Buddy, I chose a fuel stop in Castle Rock, verbalized on my way to the car as “Next stop, C-Rock!” This was imminently followed by “C-Rock is way better than Arock”. If you don't know who Arock is, you don't spend time on Arfcom, and that's probably a good thing. If you did get that...I'm sorry.

After Castle Rock, I found myself still counting landmarks and exits to Colorado Springs. Old habits die hard, I suppose. Instinct or habit almost prompted me to merge right and exit at Academy (“Briargate? Only two more miles!”), but there's no reason or merit in such an action.

Colorado Springs used to seem so far away. The 70-some miles/hour and a quarter seemed like FOREVER, yet today it was just the start to my journey. Seventy is barely a start into 270. Three and a half hours didn't even seem too bad – I entertained myself the whole ride down with sermons, music, and favorite soundtracks. It's funny how “forever” turned into “just the beginning” in just a few months.

My drive was a metaphor for my relationship with Mary. Just as Colorado Springs was the final destination for my drives, so I thought we'd spend the rest of our lives together. I was quite content to do so. Circumstances and choices intervened, though, and my life journey continues. Momentarily after our breakup, I may have felt like my life was over, but in reality God has a long fruitful road ahead of me. Mary wasn't my life's destination; it's time to push down on the foot-feet and re-set the cruise control for greener pastures and friendlier skies.

“No matter where you go, I will find you/In the place with no frontiers
No matter where you go, I will find you/Even if it takes a thousand years..”
-“I Will Find You”, Clannad (Last of the Mohicans soundtrack)

I will find my life's path and hopefully someone to share it with, “some day, some how, [...] but not right now.” No matter where I have to go or how long it will take.

Local traffic variations are interesting. Denver drivers drive fast, except through downtown where I-25 always goes 20 mph during sane parts of the day. (Or I just mistime it. I don't recall it being as bad after 11 PM...) Traffic often shuts down sometime after Monument on into north Springs, but even after that, Springs drivers drive slow. Almost all the way to Pueblo, they drive slow. I think the one that took the cake was where I was doing 75 (in a 75 limit zone) in the left lane then someone changed into my lane and slowed down to 60. Good job, genius! Anyway.

Some girl flew by me in a mocha-colored Grand Am somewhere between Briargate and Highway 24. The attitude I perceived from the driving and mannerisms was one of confidence and assertiveness. For a second, I thought of my ex-girlfriend. I know she had goals of finishing school and finding a car this spring. I'm not sure if she accomplished her goals and really don't care. If I could wish a frivolous wish, though, I'd wish that she accomplishes her goals and gets through her life's trials as a better person. I hope she becomes confident, assertive, and content in her life situation, whatever that is.

Another good part about driving by myself is that I get to sing aloud without bothering people. Today was a day of queuing up sermons I've missed from church right behind albums that are good driving music right behind random soundtracks. Remember that “lots of time” thing? Lots of time means time spent exploring memories attached to whatever I was listening to.

I posit that classic or even past Disney movies were scored better than current Disney movies. Aladdin, Hunchback of Notre Dame, even Beauty and the Beast or (shudder) The Little Mermaid seem to have more compelling music than Tarzan, The Princess and The Frog or Tangled. I don't have anything against Phil Collins, but it was just different in a not-as-good way.

Hmm, the latter two (The Princess and The Frog and Tangled) were date movies for Mary and I. We even went and saw them in the theater... Good times. Mary always promised that she was going to sit me down one day and remedy my deficiency in classic Disney movies. Although I've heard most of them from book-on-tape, I haven't seen most of them. Lady and the Tramp, Bambi, Jungle Book (maybe not that one), etc – all movies that I “gotta see.” Guess that's just one more thing she said but didn't mean to follow through on.

Speaking of Hunchback of Notre Dame, I forget how dark that story is. Haven't actually seen the movie, but I've read the book and I assume it follows pretty closely. I'm not sure if it's more classic tragedy or Gothic horror. Probably not Gothic horror – it has more that Greek or Shakespearean ironic yet tragic twist to it. The main theme has this stereotypical waltz rhythm to it. One-two-three, Four-five-six. Step, step, pause - Step, step, pause. Sorry if the verbalization doesn't work for you; I only partly remember the step and don't know how it's commonly stated. The gist of the song is some men are monsters, some are just men, and the outside has nothing to do with true nature. Waltz-two-three, Step-step-step. Weird. (Oh! I have a story about a waltz. It'll have to wait for another time, though.)

I also re-listened to the “Last of the Mohicans” score as I drove. Excellent music, pretty amazing movie. I'll have to re-watch it. The last time I watched it was in a tent at about 10,000 feet. Shut up! I often camp with my laptop – it works out well. This time, I was up Guanella Pass with some friends celebrating summer and good friends and I hadn't finished the movie yet. Sleeping bag, pad, mountain smell, and laptop and headphones – ah yeah.

That camping trip was only a week or two after I had gone to the Ren Fest with Mary and we'd both noticed sparks flying. My buddy was trying to figure out if he should date a girl he had just met (he should, he did, and they're still together – it's cute), and I was trying to figure out what to do about Mary. I had no idea we'd be together for as long as we were (or at all, I suppose) or that she'd aim to take me down in the end. What an odd weekend and what an odd memory in present context.

Just keep driving, Kenton. The car loves to chew through the miles just as long as I stay focused and on task. Las Animas County, Cucharas, Huerfano. Names I know from placards at the State Fair, but never connected to real places. Huh, interesting – they actually do exist. Apparently these places also value 4-H highly, as I've been greeted by signs for each county's program as I cross the borders. Must be nice to have such popular support...

New Mexico's state border sign says “The Land of Enchantment”. How bizarre that an entire state decides to specialize in one school, especially such a weak one. I wonder if they picked the same opposition schools, too. (And if you get _that_ one, you know too much D&D3.5/PF)

Besides that, they have strange road signs. I'm OK with the red circle-thing highway markers rather than the white Colorado flag rectangles, although my mind still misses the cue at first glace. No, it's that instead of “animal crossing” signs with words or leaping deer silhouettes, they have “bear crossing” silhouettes and “some large antlered animal crossing” silhouettes and “Slow Down, My Mommy Works Here” signs. Complete with early-grade-school font, even. Took me a minute to realize the desired intent.

Finally! I'm here! It's a little surreal. The Whittington Center is big and impressive. Tens of thousands of acres set aside for the kinds of games we play. Hills, flats, bluffs, and many shooting ranges. Even the entry is pretty dramatic – you turn off the highway through a large gateway, then drive between columns of all 50 state flags. It's a reminder to me of how big our country is both geographically and ideologically, and yet a reminder that we all have a lot in common.

This place is a) huge and b) pretty awesome. Any kind of competitive or recreational shooting you can imagine, they have a range for. Do you want to hunt? They'll guide you if you like. Classrooms? Check. History lesson? Check. Want to join the NRA? Easy and convenient. My match is on the “far side” of the property, hiking through mountain prairies, looks like. There's housing on site, camping, dorm-style, or cabins. [In fact, the dorm-style building is where I'm staying tonight. For a reasonable fee, I get a bed and the potential for a shower. Too bad I'm writing instead of showering...The things I sacrifice for you, my reader(s).]

When I arrived, I walked into the Guest Center to get some information and look around. There I was, minding my own business when I saw her and got slightly distracted. She was working the counter, and rather attractive (hey, I have standards). At second glance, she definitely wasn't plain in appearance, but I think had caught my eye was a slight resemblance to someone I knew in a past life. No, not anyone I used to date – that'd just be messed up. Still...

Perturbed from my groove, I went back to perusing the gift shop and museum. Dude! What other gift shop do you know of that has commemorative (tourist trap) clothing against one wall and a rack of long guns on the other? Turquoise jewelry in one display case and handguns in the adjacent one? Seriously, this place is OK. I didn't need anything and hadn't budgeted for souvenirs, so info was all I needed. Needless to say, I timed my inquiry to not talk to the pretty young woman I'd noticed - I prefer minimizing my social awkwardness if I can help it. (at least I'm a step apart from my friend who claims “pretty girls make me drink”. I don't drink, I just withdraw...)

Having obtained the knowledge I needed, maybe I lingered just a little longer than I should have. Hey, if she works here, she's probably gun-friendly and is likely to have compatible political views. Maybe I should at least meet her. But that road leads only to madness, so I set my gaze to my intended destination and walked away. Sorry – I guess my (keyboard) filter slipped for a moment.

Such is my trip to Raton so far... Tomorrow, I shoot and try myself against an unknown challenge.

[yes, it says Part 1. I left my notepad on the passenger seat on the way back to have material for a Part 2...stay tuned, dear readers.]