A Simple Mundane Life

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Words on paper. Those are as solid as one can be.  A real reflection of what is in our hearts.  Things we trouble ourselves to talk about.  They are as committed to the author as one would be in marriage. These words come alive, and can surpass in breath even the writer who scripted them.

If blissful ignorance were a place, I would buy property there, and build a vacation home.  Because, while knowledge is indeed powerful, some of it can be the anchor which holds the learner under water, leaving them to drown in their sorrows.

The "information highway" reaches speeds past that of sound, past the light reflected off the sun and onto the objects which wait for its shine. Last week, last month, last year; this week, this month, this year. We move in a circle of stuff some of us did not ask to know.  Our muscles hurt.  There is simply too much to carry, and we have no more room to shift their weight.

I understand now why, as we age, we move more toward wanting a simple mundane life.  Its the great expectation of waking up every morning and knowing what is going to happen with no unwelcomed surprises. Life starts, and it seems we are so willing to explore all the possibilities it can bring.  The world is full with oyster pearls, and we believe we can gather more than our portion's share.  Then, the reality of being a "responsible adult" hits, and we begin the process of second guessing our choices, climb onto our circular-shaped stones, and begin our journey down hill.

Yes, it can very much look like a dark future to look forward to, but it doesn't have to be. There are resting places along the way.  We need those in order to regroup, and build strength in order jump back on our circular stones, and keep riding the never-ending hill of waves.

It is a challenge indeed, while riding those waves, to long for a resting place that seems all too far away. I find myself stealing away moments to rest, while at the same time making moves to emulate an undeterred champion. This works for those who are watching. It makes it look as though I am rooted in strength, not because it is what I am feeling, but for those who need to see that picture to prevent them from worrying, I am glad to paint it. Yet, I wonder, just how long this strong tower image will hold up? Because, I am certainly not a strong tower on the inside.  This is the place only visible in part by me, and in full view to the Creator.

The tower is crumbling, not because it only holds up under the right circumstances, like those of many others, but because the consistent pressure of the weight being stacked high upon its head, has been sitting there far too long. It is trying to do a new thing with old tools, drawing from old resources for a new reality, and wondering if the two will ever meet in perfect harmony. 

There is hope still.  One which never leaves, but resides well with me and those who refuse to allow living drive the life right out of us. We look to it in order to find peace enough to sleep at night. Solace is found within dreams and visions.  They craft a clear picture of God's voice, which in the noise of the business from the day, can go unheard. He leans in to the level of our understanding and assures us that our hope is not in vain.

Mundane, in the dictionary, is defined as both dull and lacking excitement, as well as being "of this earthly world rather than a heavenly or spiritual one."  To me, it can be a place we run to when we grow old, or a place we run from while we are still young. Either way, we understand the meaning of its purpose most deeply during the quiet stillness of our journey. It is an oxymoron, in that it can be both good and bad; confined to the fear of it in our former years, and escaping in it while we wait for these temples made of dirt to pass away.