Today, Memorial Day, was pretty darn perfect: a run, a 30-second fahreezing swim, catching up on reading, potato salad. Now I'm sitting on the dock--our lease runs out in a month so I'm enjoying it while I can--watching the subtle changes in the eastern sky as the sun sets behind me. I can see one sailboat and one motor boat.
I'm alone. And that's one problem.
For as much as I love being alone, and am über comfortable with it, between SBI and apartment living the past year has showed me it's not entirely good for me. Just a year ago I was spending hours and hours of the day (and night) in the woods alone. Of course I'm a firm believer in a little solo think-tank time--that's healthy--and I generally need to be alone-ish to write, but continually seeking solitude is not the best thing under the sun.
I need people.
More specifically, I need to talk to people. Usually, I count being in the midst of people--smiling at them, acknowledging their presence, being civil--as social enough. It feels social enough. But it's not.
I wish it were. So many people have called me a clam, and it's an apt, if cliche, comparison. It is hard for me to come out of my shell, and it feels awkward when I do. I become so self-aware of the words I'm choosing and stumbling over, checking my posture and expressions, and gauging their reactions while considering their perception of me, it's...disgraceful. Probably grossly conceited.
SBI helped some. It showed me opening myself up and actually drawing people out in return is terribly worth it. Even working at the cafe has helped a bit. Living in close quarters, where I go days without being alone in the fullest sense of the word has shown me I won't keel over from lack of seclusion.
To the contrary, I've realized how extended seclusion was killing me. How looping logic and analyzing and wishing and soul searching was leaving me empty and dry-eyed, perpetuating self-pity.
So, though social situations have been thrust upon me through various circumstances, I've been actively trying to quit the loner-shenanigans. I need people. And some level of happiness wouldn't hurt too. Sometimes the two do go together.
I've been a little more successful than usual, lately. Perhaps since there's been no school. A few weeks ago I needed to renew my long-expired, illegal DL, so I figured that was a good excuse to drive down to Pennsylvania. From the DMV, I hopped over to have dinner with Andrew and from there we drove around the proverbial block to the Markell's. Ben and Riah and their significant others were giving a casual concert and it was lovely to see them--and everyone I hadn't seen in months--and of course hear them play.
Honestly, near the beginning their were times when I wanted to run out the door and escape and maybe throw up--for no logical reason because everyone was super welcoming and I've known some of these folks my whole life--but I didn't run way or get sick, and I'm so glad I didn't because it--they--were good for my soul. Like I heard Will say once, "You can't play the blues on a banjo." Throw in a bass and a fiddle and something fancy happens in my brain that...Well, makes me feel good. The music set the stage for dancing, eating, laughing...talking. Soon, in such company [community] the last thing I wanted to do was leave, but to get home at a decent time I had to.
More recently, just yesterday a few of us attended Henry's Cornell graduation party. I love Iris and Henry both to death, but the clam in me didn't want to go because there would be people there I wouldn't know and it would be...awkward. Well yeah, there were awkward moments. But I met this white haired man named Ray who in ten seconds looked into my eyes and shined a light in my soul and spoke my language. All we did was talk but it felt like a big deal. Maybe it was.
This past week I was also taking care of the Hinter's farm while they were away. Though I was at work most days, I spent the nights up there keeping an eye on the animals and keeping company with Grandma Rita. I was not expecting it, but it was beautiful being with her. If anyone is four times your age, you should listen to them. You don't hide in a book or in the shower.
Also, it's worth mentioning that I've felt a little more connected to my church recently, evening though Sunday mornings are just...gah, so dang awkward.
Through it all--in all these moments, fast or slow, with people, or alone and listening to the animals in the night--along with the talking, I've been trying to just be. To be present, you know, live in the moment. Because the other thing? It doesn't matter what kind of moment it is, I'm always hastening it's completion. I feel outside of what is happening, secluded in my shell, and that is perhaps why it's hard for me to step inside. Outside these situations, inside my head, I'm chomping at the bit because I think I have some place better to be.
It's heaven, of course. I don't care what's happening, or who I'm with, I want Jesus to come back now.
But he keeps not coming yet. So I can't just stand here on the outside, safe in my little shell. I need to step inside and join in life. I need to talk to people. It makes the journey to heaven better, the time go faster, anyway.
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