My heart is obsessive by nature and slipping into dependence is simple for me. When there is craving there is inevitable blindness to anything but the burning quest for satisfaction, and this disregard for personal well-being and the welfare of others leads to sad places—places hollow, shallow, and void of beauty. Things that may have been lovely are ruined by thirst and greed, like a dirty polluted river lined with warped trees and dilapidated houses. I see hate and am repulsed but have felt hate in my own heart. I see greed and it angers me, but I find myself manipulating to get my way. Heaviness descends. Hope vanishes. Obsession intensifies, and I cycle downwards believing I am striving for happiness.
But, the hope and beauty there is in this life I have not found by pacing with the world in the quest for pleasure. Even the good things lack purity and wholeness. When I realize I have jumped into the pursuit of happiness I am reminded of this quote from Emerson. “The problem of restoring to the world original and eternal beauty is solved by the redemption of the soul.” –Ralph Waldo Emerson Here is an uncomfortable statement from a well-known poem. “I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul.” I would love to believe this is not true, because it voids me of my responsibility. But, my humanity gives me the freedom to choose what to do with the unconquerable piece of myself—the piece no one can touch unless I let them. My daily inclination is to pollute, to dwell on angry thoughts and feelings until they burn up into rage because I want to feel, and I want to blame. But, these feelings twist me up and leave me tense and selfish and tired. God’s great desire is for me to choose every day to give my soul back. To take everything off the shelf, wipe everything down, and vacuum out the corners. Embracing minimalism is my way of trying to eliminate my pack rat nature. The unsatisfied parts of my soul desire to take something good and ruin it with obsessive craving, so I must give things up. While minimalism is a great picture of emptying out matter, it has no effect without tending to my soul. Taking time to address thoughts and empty the mind, pray and release worry, read and let the words alter my will, these are the objectives of minimalism. And as I let go of my life and make tiny waves with my own actions I see and feel God fill me up with big waves of purpose.* This is my last post on minimalism. But, my hope is this is only the start of what is to come through my continued efforts to lose myself in the beauty of God’s will for my life. So, dear reader, my challenge for you is to make tiny waves. Even if it is 60 seconds, take time every day for the soul. Your soul is your responsibility. Test your heart, your desires and your intentions. Labor and wait. You have purpose beyond happiness and you are loved more than you can fathom. What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul? **"Tiny tiny waves, tiny tiny waves, big waves" is a song created by my nephew and is not my original content. **
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Fear gripping me almost as tightly as my left hand was gripping a branch thin enough for my thumb to touch my middle finger, dangling 45 feet in the air above the water, feet walking on empty space, body swaying from the bending branch and stiffening storm breeze. My upper body was one clenched muscle of trembling petrification. Something in my will to experience got me to this point, but everything in my brain and body was rejecting intention. Whether or not I chose to be terrified did not matter. There was an iron lock on my ability to move and the fear held the key; it was taunting me. I played little games, counting to three, closing my eyes and imagining myself letting go, calling myself names, encouraging myself with the idea of feeling the earth under my feet, torturing myself with the knowledge that retreat was impossible. Minutes passed. The breeze stiffened, and the sky darkened. My friends did cycles of activity, staring at me, yelling at me, and losing interest and talking among themselves. At long last nature impatiently, mercifully, had enough. What I thought was thunder was the crack of the branch and seconds after the noise it snapped beneath the weight and the sudden downward movement forced me to let go. I started a free fall. I can feel myself internally in the moment and see myself externally watching from the end of the lake. Dark sky, dark water, the empty space between the tall sycamore and water disrupted by me. The distance between the falling object and water shortening, arms and legs flailing. In the moment, from my internal perspective I could feel myself climbing the emptiness with outstretched hands and arms trying to get back to the petrifyingly still, torturous, dangling. The drop was not wholly bad and could have been enjoyable without the surprise and terror consuming me as I plunged towards the water. Squishy earth between my toes felt more relieving than any pain from smacking my body against the water. Heavy beating, rushing blood pulsing through my body and sharp clean breath in my lungs made me feel deliriously happy. The immersion cleansed the fear and the water trickled down my skin in satisfying droplets. These feelings intensified my resolve to do it again—to feel the sense of freedom associated with falling through the air and landing safely. Less intense and dangerous measures but similar feelings, (gut sick fear), arose when I parted with my books last week. My will was strong enough to do so without nature inserting its dominance, but there is a baffling confusion when I reflect on my physical reaction to such meaningless objects. It wears on the emotion and induces some strange sort of stress followed by equal amounts of liberty. Removing the unnecessary and facing fear is exhausting, but it leaves me with space and experience. Space to fill with something wonderful I hope—space to feel the freedom of doing something uncomfortable and unconventional and living outside the lockstep. Space for ideas and actions and love. Here is a truth I have discovered. Many of the things I find most terrifying in life—the things most restraining—can be broken and overcome (with help), and the freedom is real. The letting go allows space for hope and joy beyond imagination, space for God to fill me up and show His strength. I feel the weight of things done or lost or left behind or broken and let them go. And then I am not afraid to turn up the music and roll the windows down, sweat, jump, sprint, laugh, change and live free. I am open and refreshed because I have faced the terror of letting go and free falling into grace. I heard a great man and youth leader say once, When people get down crying you get them up dancing." –Bill Toombs I firmly believe this is God’s desire. He replaces brokenness with joy strong beyond circumstances. His aim is not to replace pride with frustration and self deprecation but with wisdom and humility. He does not want for people to live in shame and guilt but rather walk in happiness and peace. His goal is not to suppress and hush life but to release wonder and jubilance and reverence. These things are in Him and He is in me. So, I seek to make room for Him by losing more of myself--to make big space for love and joy and action as I lose a mindset of negativity and of control. I will breathe in deeply and see the world clearly. I will not be afraid to live. Don’t wait for the branch to crack. Jump. “Let us then be up and doing With a heart for any fate Still achieving; still pursuing Learn to labor, and to wait.” ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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I'm a Hoosier. I like the outdoors. Taxes are my job. I write for a living. This Blog
Writing my way to an adult life of minimalism, sustainability, and joy rooted in Truth. I'm learning, unlearning, and relearning.
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