It was a quiet night.
A quiet night on a quiet weekend. Perhaps the silence is what allowed me to hear the ghostly call. It started softly, the sort of noise that you dismiss for your imagination a second after you hear it.
Michael...
I paused, but I didn't hear anything else. Must have been the wind. I went back to my reading, giving the stray sound nary a passing thought. Then it happened again.
Michael...
I glanced over the edge of the sofa, but saw nothing. This time I waited a moment longer, though, intrigued by this second occurrence. It had occurred, hadn't it? I'd had a few beers that night well I was gaming with my friends earlier. Perhaps it had been a few more than I realized. I blinked, listened some more, then went back to reading.
Michael...
This time I leapt to my feet. That sound had been anything but illusory. I looked around, eyes riveted to the shadows, hands groping for something that might be used as a weapon. Whatever dark specter waited for me wouldn't take me without a fight
"Who's there?" I asked, looking around at the empty room.
Michael... the ghostly voice moaned again. We are so lonely... so cold... where are you, Michael?
I had now moved from the mildly-freaked-out stage to the knee knocking, hands shaking, heart pounding terror stage. "I don't know what you're talking about! Leave me alone!"
You've abandoned us, Michael. Now we have come for you.
This time the voice was directly behind me. I leapt, spun around, and let out a manly battle cry that could have easily been mistaken for a girly scream, but was anything but. There, before me on my kitchen table, rested...
My dice bag.
That was the last thing I remember before I blacked out. I woke up an indeterminate amount of time later, on my back. My dice bag was back in its usual spot on my bookshelf. Everything else was in order. But there was one thing I knew. One certain, undeniable thing. The dice had made it clear.
I needed to game.
I had let them sit idle for too long. There was only one thing to do. I snatched up my pen and notepad and began furiously scribbling, planning for sessions to come. The nights of gaming must rise again. Maptool must be called forth. Battles must be fought. Adventures must be had. It is the only way to appease the dice.
I just pray that I am not too late.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Sunday, October 21, 2012
A Backlit Canopy With Holes Punched In It
Simply beauty.
I had the opportunity to go camping this past weekend with some most excellent friends of mine. The nights were frigid, what with it being mid October and all, and it rained half the time, but on the nights that it was clear, the sky was downright breathtaking.
We were in the northeast part of Minnesota, far from any cities of note or other forms of light pollution, which made for ideal viewing conditions. Both due to my lifestyle and due to where I live, I rarely get out to see the stars and really apprecaite them, but as I looked up these past few nights, it left me stunned.
The sky was the darkest black, deep and endless. When I turn my eyes to it, it's was almost an auditory sensation, as though the darkness had fallen onto the dome of the sky and enveloped it with a deep _whuff_. The stars were bright and pure, tiny pinpricks of light that melded together into a glorious sea of light. The Milky Way glowed faintly in the background, a soft haze that lent the night a calm, quiet mood.
Looking up into that sky filled me with serenity. When life is tragic or hard or filled with sorrow, the sky is a constant beauty, an unchanging reminder of God's power and presence.
In it, and in Him, I find peace.
I had the opportunity to go camping this past weekend with some most excellent friends of mine. The nights were frigid, what with it being mid October and all, and it rained half the time, but on the nights that it was clear, the sky was downright breathtaking.
We were in the northeast part of Minnesota, far from any cities of note or other forms of light pollution, which made for ideal viewing conditions. Both due to my lifestyle and due to where I live, I rarely get out to see the stars and really apprecaite them, but as I looked up these past few nights, it left me stunned.
The sky was the darkest black, deep and endless. When I turn my eyes to it, it's was almost an auditory sensation, as though the darkness had fallen onto the dome of the sky and enveloped it with a deep _whuff_. The stars were bright and pure, tiny pinpricks of light that melded together into a glorious sea of light. The Milky Way glowed faintly in the background, a soft haze that lent the night a calm, quiet mood.
Looking up into that sky filled me with serenity. When life is tragic or hard or filled with sorrow, the sky is a constant beauty, an unchanging reminder of God's power and presence.
In it, and in Him, I find peace.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Build
With my own hands.
I've always loved building things. When I was little, my favorite toys were Legos and Knex and that sort of thing. We had a sandbox in which I spent many an afternoon sculpting (and subsequently destroying) palaces, castles, or whole cities. My best friend and I spent dozens of hammers and legions of nails building all manner of forts, half forts, semblances of forts in the woods behind his house. I grew up and got a degree in engineering, but then decided that I wanted to spend my life building whole worlds instead, so in my spare time I work towards becoming an author instead.
Long story short, I tend to build things.
For just this reason, I'm somewhat of a tool junkie. For the pasts several Christmases, my wishlist has usually included some manner of tool. Drills, bits, pliers, screwdrivers, hammers, you name it, I've asked for it. Built myself up a pretty respectable toolbox, and hopefully one day, I'll be able to move my tools and have a fairly respectable workshop. The bigger the better, in my humble opinion. Like, if I can ever get my hands on a lathe, I'm totally going to.
Because these days, there's something I find deeply calming about building things. In the past, (and recently) when I'm at a low point in my life, I've often found a project to work on, something that I can design and build with my own hands. I don't know why, but it helps me work through whatever I'm dealing with. Maybe it's that, when I can't control some parts of my life and they are falling apart and not working , I can turn to something that I control, something that I'm good at, something that I can accomplish simply through my own sweat and ingenuity. The specific project doesn't really matter, but taking a bunch of raw materials and making something useful or fun or beautiful out of them is deeply satisfying to me.
Makes me long for the days when I can have my own workshop. You'll be able to tell when I finally do, because the next day, the local tool shop will be sold out. Of everything.
I've always loved building things. When I was little, my favorite toys were Legos and Knex and that sort of thing. We had a sandbox in which I spent many an afternoon sculpting (and subsequently destroying) palaces, castles, or whole cities. My best friend and I spent dozens of hammers and legions of nails building all manner of forts, half forts, semblances of forts in the woods behind his house. I grew up and got a degree in engineering, but then decided that I wanted to spend my life building whole worlds instead, so in my spare time I work towards becoming an author instead.
Long story short, I tend to build things.
For just this reason, I'm somewhat of a tool junkie. For the pasts several Christmases, my wishlist has usually included some manner of tool. Drills, bits, pliers, screwdrivers, hammers, you name it, I've asked for it. Built myself up a pretty respectable toolbox, and hopefully one day, I'll be able to move my tools and have a fairly respectable workshop. The bigger the better, in my humble opinion. Like, if I can ever get my hands on a lathe, I'm totally going to.
Because these days, there's something I find deeply calming about building things. In the past, (and recently) when I'm at a low point in my life, I've often found a project to work on, something that I can design and build with my own hands. I don't know why, but it helps me work through whatever I'm dealing with. Maybe it's that, when I can't control some parts of my life and they are falling apart and not working , I can turn to something that I control, something that I'm good at, something that I can accomplish simply through my own sweat and ingenuity. The specific project doesn't really matter, but taking a bunch of raw materials and making something useful or fun or beautiful out of them is deeply satisfying to me.
Makes me long for the days when I can have my own workshop. You'll be able to tell when I finally do, because the next day, the local tool shop will be sold out. Of everything.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Truth
I'm tired.
Not the kind of tired where you haven't gotten enough
sleep. Well, that too, in honest. But I'm talking about being emotionally
tired. The kind of tired that drains
your strength and saps your soul and leaves you feeling empty and hollow.
I've had a long weekend.
So I'm sitting here on Sunday night, trying to come up with
something clever and entertaining and I'm just not getting anything. That usually means that I'd write something
dark and dreary instead, but I can't even come up with that. I trying to sift for ideas, but they just
drain through my hands. None of them are
worth hammering into something coherent.
Maybe because there's nothing left worth saying.
So instead of saying something, I'll instead offer up the
words that other men and women have penned, words that have served me well.
"Everyone is down on pain, because the forget something
important about it: pain is for the living.
Only the dead don't feel it. Pain
is a part of life. Sometimes it's a big
part, and sometimes it isn't, but either way, it's part of the big puzzle, the
deep music, the great game. Pain does
two things: it teaches you, tells you that you're alive. Then it passes away and leaves you changed. It leaves you wiser, sometimes. Sometimes it leaves you stronger. Either way, pain leaves its mark, and
everything important that will ever happen to you in life is going to involve
in in one degree or another."
-Harry Dresden, White Night
"You go on. You just go on. There's nothing more to it,
and there's no trick to make it easier. You just go on."
-Harra, Memory
These words are not exactly a comfort to me, at least not in
the sort of way where you feel warm and fuzzy and happy on the inside. I don't have much use for that kind of
comfort, cause in my experience, it's not often real.
They do remind me of the truth, though, and the truth, while
not always a comfort, is real. You
either find the strength to stand before it, or you're crushed beneath it.
And I would rather bare my teeth and take my chances with
the truth.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
The Storm
This moment is graven into my mind.
The wind was blowing;
it usually does.
Your cheeks were red,
seared by the chill air.
Your eyes, blue,
as though the spring sky had surrendered its color to your gaze to make way for the roiling clouds.
Your hair, golden,
a wavy halo swirling with an untamed ferocity whose appeal you will never understand,
dancing unchecked with the outriders.
You were a Norse legend, a shieldmaiden of old,
fair and beautiful, a harbinger of the storm to come.
And the storm did come.
Rains crashed down, lashing my unprotected body,
thunder shook the ground beneath my feet,
as the lightning ripped the sky asunder.
And in the midst of the whirling downpour,
I gloried in it,
because the storm is life.
The gray overcast, the empty fog,
that drains until there is nothing left,
so softly that you hardly notice,
and leaves you bloodless and cold,
that is my fear.
But the storm rages on,
a churning mass of pain and hardship and heartbreak,
and though it may shatter me on the rocks,
blood courses through my veins, hot despite the icy rain,
and the storm is nothing to be feared.
For some, the sun shines and the sky smiles,
but I've always chased the lightning.
The wind was blowing;
it usually does.
Your cheeks were red,
seared by the chill air.
Your eyes, blue,
as though the spring sky had surrendered its color to your gaze to make way for the roiling clouds.
Your hair, golden,
a wavy halo swirling with an untamed ferocity whose appeal you will never understand,
dancing unchecked with the outriders.
You were a Norse legend, a shieldmaiden of old,
fair and beautiful, a harbinger of the storm to come.
And the storm did come.
Rains crashed down, lashing my unprotected body,
thunder shook the ground beneath my feet,
as the lightning ripped the sky asunder.
And in the midst of the whirling downpour,
I gloried in it,
because the storm is life.
The gray overcast, the empty fog,
that drains until there is nothing left,
so softly that you hardly notice,
and leaves you bloodless and cold,
that is my fear.
But the storm rages on,
a churning mass of pain and hardship and heartbreak,
and though it may shatter me on the rocks,
blood courses through my veins, hot despite the icy rain,
and the storm is nothing to be feared.
For some, the sun shines and the sky smiles,
but I've always chased the lightning.
Monday, September 10, 2012
On the Odd Proportions of the Awkward Engineer
Revelation has been given to me.
So I'm a working man now. A real, bona fide engineer who does all kinds of captain-y things. Okay, actually I just sit around and bug the people who actually know what's going on and are good at stuff. Whatever.
Anywho, as an engineer, I'm around a lot of other engineers. And among those other engineers are a number of awkward engineers. These men seem to exude awkward energy from there very pores, projecting it out onto those around them so that as you walk by, you feel the slight a slight cringe run down your spine. The awkward force is strong with these ones.
Now I was wondering to myself one day, "What makes an awkward engineer so different from the rest of us? Why are there some guys who seem totally chill and relaxed and others who leave you shaking with the sheer power of their oddity?" For a while, it was a mystery that I could not solve.
Until one day, I was walking down the hall and it hit me. It's all a matter of proportions. Allow me to illustrate. In our first example, I present to you a normally proportioned engineer.
Well, he's poorly drawn, so maybe he's not perfectly proportioned, but he'll serve our purposes. Alright, now we're going to perform some science on this guy to make him awkward. Step one: the waistline.
So I'm a working man now. A real, bona fide engineer who does all kinds of captain-y things. Okay, actually I just sit around and bug the people who actually know what's going on and are good at stuff. Whatever.
Anywho, as an engineer, I'm around a lot of other engineers. And among those other engineers are a number of awkward engineers. These men seem to exude awkward energy from there very pores, projecting it out onto those around them so that as you walk by, you feel the slight a slight cringe run down your spine. The awkward force is strong with these ones.
Now I was wondering to myself one day, "What makes an awkward engineer so different from the rest of us? Why are there some guys who seem totally chill and relaxed and others who leave you shaking with the sheer power of their oddity?" For a while, it was a mystery that I could not solve.
Until one day, I was walking down the hall and it hit me. It's all a matter of proportions. Allow me to illustrate. In our first example, I present to you a normally proportioned engineer.
Woah! Did it suddenly get more awkward in here? This guys seems to think so. But wait, we can do more!
Oh yeah! Look at those shoulders! That hunched posture is practically screaming awkward! It's as though he shambles through the abandoned cubicles day after day, preying upon the social graces of those unfortunate enough to stumble into his dark domain. Let's just add the finishing touches now...
He is complete! Look upon his wretched form! Bask in the radiance of his awkwardness! We walk in the garden of his turbulence! Yaaaaaaa!
As some of you may have noticed, the key to the awkward engineer's awkwardness is a matter of proportions. To increase the awkwardness, you must simply push some of the normal dividing lines of the human form UP. Waistline, shoulders, hairline, and the bottom of the pants legs. Move every one of those up about 4 inches and BAM! Instant awkwardness.
And now you know.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Righteous Right Hand
Beautiful.
A friend and I were talking earlier and we got onto the topic of favorite Bible verses. The one she told me about totally blew me away with how awesome it was. It's Isaiah 41:10 and it goes a little something like this...
"So do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."
I was just struck by the incredible imagery of that verse. The thought that, when we are weak and lacking for strength, God is there, holding us in His righteous hand is one that I find both powerful and comforting. Definitely something to keep in mind when my own strength runs out.
A friend and I were talking earlier and we got onto the topic of favorite Bible verses. The one she told me about totally blew me away with how awesome it was. It's Isaiah 41:10 and it goes a little something like this...
"So do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."
I was just struck by the incredible imagery of that verse. The thought that, when we are weak and lacking for strength, God is there, holding us in His righteous hand is one that I find both powerful and comforting. Definitely something to keep in mind when my own strength runs out.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Parallelism
I feel like I've been here before...
today I climbed the tallest tree
leapt from the highest branches
caught the wings of the storm and rode them away
watched the lightning crash behind me
floated in the silence
listened to the screaming
let the voices reside
now I wait
Something feels different this time.
today I climbed the tallest tree
leapt from the highest branches
caught the wings of the storm and rode them away
watched the lightning crash behind me
floated in the silence
listened to the screaming
let the voices reside
now I wait
Something feels different this time.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Realizations
They're those moments where you go "ooooh".
So I've been moving into a new apartment over the last few days. It's been a lot of work and involved about a dozen Target runs. It's ridiculous how many times I've realized I needed something that I didn't have. Ahh well, I'm getting close to a point of working order.
I've had a lot of other realizations while I've been moving in too, though. After living in a dorm for so many years, there are a ton of things that are kinda ingrained into me that are no longer relevant. They're little, but I found them kinda interesting when I realized how for granted I took them.
For instance, I got up to go to the bathroom one morning when I woke up and realized that I didn't have to put on shoes or sandals because it's my personal bathroom and the only thing that's been on it besides my feet is a bunch of bleach and soapy water.
Or I was out shopping and thinking about what to buy when I realized that I had a fridge, a freezer, and a ton of cabinet space back in my apartment. I could, and should, but real food. And I did. And I made tacos that night. And it was grand.
I also realized that bassy music is way more noticable in an apartment than in a dorm. My subwoofer regularly ran at about 60% volume in the dorms. Here, I have it set to about 20%.
Even today, while I was hanging up clothes, I was thinking about how it would be nice when the weather got colder so that I could start dressing in layers and wearing longer stuff (as most of the fashion sense that I have is based around longer wear). Then I realized that summer was starting, not ending. Every other time I've moved into a new place, it's been the beginning of a new school year with fall approaching. Not so this time.
None of these things are huge, but I find it amusing how often I run across something that makes me think twice about what I had taken for granted. Weird.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
In All Things But Death
Life goes on.
Sometimes it takes a few weeks. Sometimes it takes some whining and moaning and feeling sorry for yourself. But in the end, you always move on. And when it finally happens, and things start to fall into perspective, it's a nice relief.
And if you're spurred along by a gorgeous redhead with green eyes to die for, well... I guess life has its ups as well as its downs.
Sometimes it takes a few weeks. Sometimes it takes some whining and moaning and feeling sorry for yourself. But in the end, you always move on. And when it finally happens, and things start to fall into perspective, it's a nice relief.
And if you're spurred along by a gorgeous redhead with green eyes to die for, well... I guess life has its ups as well as its downs.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
A Day Late
And a dollar short.
That's how the saying goes. In some cases, it isn't always quite a day; sometimes it's two or three. The concept sure seems to hold though.
As an illustration, I'll probably be going to work at Hutchinson when this school year is over. I'm not particularly enthused about working there, but such is life.
Recently, though, I had a possible opportunity open up. One of the guys I know on my RA staff got me a potential in with the company his mom works at. The location was right (which was kinda huge), the company seemed interesting enough, and the manager I would be working for sounded like a great guy, so I was pretty excited about it.
Then I heard about the last three candidates who had applied for the job. One didn't show to the interview. One showed up wearing his pajamas. One showed up, but his major wasn't even related to engineering.
Basically, if I showed up in a suit, I was in. I applied right away that night, hopeful that I might have something lining up nicely.
A couple days later, I asked my RA buddy to see what the status of things were. As it turned out, two days before I'd handed in my app, they'd finally someone else.
Sigh...
Seems that that's the story of this semester. I can have what I don't want, and I can almost have what I'd actually like, but then I end up a day or two short.
I know it's probably not as bad as I feel like it is sometimes, and maybe I'm just complaining too much, but still, sometimes...
Sigh...
That's how the saying goes. In some cases, it isn't always quite a day; sometimes it's two or three. The concept sure seems to hold though.
As an illustration, I'll probably be going to work at Hutchinson when this school year is over. I'm not particularly enthused about working there, but such is life.
Recently, though, I had a possible opportunity open up. One of the guys I know on my RA staff got me a potential in with the company his mom works at. The location was right (which was kinda huge), the company seemed interesting enough, and the manager I would be working for sounded like a great guy, so I was pretty excited about it.
Then I heard about the last three candidates who had applied for the job. One didn't show to the interview. One showed up wearing his pajamas. One showed up, but his major wasn't even related to engineering.
Basically, if I showed up in a suit, I was in. I applied right away that night, hopeful that I might have something lining up nicely.
A couple days later, I asked my RA buddy to see what the status of things were. As it turned out, two days before I'd handed in my app, they'd finally someone else.
Sigh...
Seems that that's the story of this semester. I can have what I don't want, and I can almost have what I'd actually like, but then I end up a day or two short.
I know it's probably not as bad as I feel like it is sometimes, and maybe I'm just complaining too much, but still, sometimes...
Sigh...
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Wretched Device
I'm not exactly the cheeriest person when I wake up.
I'm even less cheery when getting bashed over the head with a large object. Combine the two together, and it's just not a pretty sight.
This weekend, I had an old friend, Tom, up visiting. While he was up, he moved the fan that I had in my window (not being accustomed to the semi-arctic conditions that I usually keep my room in) and set it on the heater right below. I didn't think much of it, and it sat there undisturbed for an entire day.
When I turned in for the night, I closed my window blinds and tossed out my blankets on the floor. In a few minutes, I was pretty much passed out.
Not more than ten minutes after I laid down, though, something big and heavy hits me in the head. My first thought (for whatever strange reason) was that somebody had smashed me in the head with some large, heavy object, such as a thick textbook. I'd say that I leapt to that cliche conclusion because I watch to much bad TV, but I don't really watch much TV, so instead I'll just blame it on chronic insanity and a hyperactive imagination.
Regardless, I was ready to jump up and do battle with whatever imaginary foe saw fit to assault me with a textbook in the dead of night. Only then did I realize that said large, heavy object was still on my head. I also realized that my head hurt a lot. Probably because it had just been struck by a large, heavy object.
I promptly did what any rational person would do when torn from sleep by an unwarranted noggin-assault.
I began hollering creative obscenities and bludgeoning said object into submission.
Only then did I realize that said object was, in fact, my fan. For whatever reason, it had vaulted off the ledge where it had sat all day and body slammed my unconscious skull into oblivion.
At this point, Tom, who was sleeping above me on my bed-couch, woke up to my raucous shouts. Our conversation probably went something like this... (any and all inaccuracies will be blamed on my sleep fogged mind and mildly concussed brain)
Me: "*$&%@*#$*{"
Tom: "Dude, what's your deal?"
Me: "Uuuurgh! My heeaaaad!"
Tom: "What happened?"
Me: "Fan! Head! Fall! Hit! Pain! Stupid!"
Tom: "Oh, dude, that sucks."
Me: *gurgle*
Tom: "The wind against the blinds musta pushed the fan over or something."
Me: *gurgle*
Tom: "So are you okay?"
Me: *gurgle* "Yeah. Head." *gurgle*
Tom: "So is it okay to laugh now? Cause that was freaking hilarious."
Me: "Yes. I hate you." *gurgle*
Tom proceeded to laugh at me long and hard, as I doubtless would have done to him were our positions reversed. The odd thing was that the fan didn't actually hurt me all that much. It was just a fan (see: not all that heavy), and it didn't land on my face or any of the other squishier bits of my head (no comments from the peanut gallery).
No, it was more like a moral affront. I was in a state of bliss and rest, and this fan had the gall to attack me without provocation and drag me kicking and screaming from my tranquil repose. The nerve. Well someday, fan, there will be a reckoning between us two. Until then, enjoy your victory, you wretched device.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Sweat, Peace, and A Moment With God
"I said not long before that work and weakness are comforters. But sweat is the kindest creatures of the three--far better than philosophy, as a cure for ill thoughts."
C.S. Lewis got it right, man.
I'm a runner. I'm not exactly a super dedicated runner like my dad, who trains for marathons and loves running races. To be honest, I've never understood why he (and others in my family) like races so much. They've never appealed to me.
That's probably reflective of why I run. I don't run for the joy of running or because it's a challenge. I run partly because I want to be in good shape, but the other part of why I run is, much like C.S. Lewis said, as a cure for ill thoughts. I run because it gives me time to think, helps me blow off some steam, and leaves me feeling good and worn out.
I also prefer running at night to running during the day. It's quieter at night. There's nobody mockingly cat calling me if I take off my shirt to stay cool. The few lights provide a nice ambiance. It's much easier to find peace of mind in the darkness.
Tonight I went out for a run. I'd been out of the groove for a week or so and even though I'd run yesterday, I needed to keep getting back into it. My mind was a little restless, too; too many troubling thoughts and silly hopes and foolish regrets rolling around upstairs. I needed to get out and sweat it out. I headed out at about 2:30, way after sane people are in bed. It was dark, quiet, and misting rain... perfect.
As I ran tonight, I stumbled upon a moment of beauty. I was running into the wind, enjoying the soft sting of rain and the cool breeze. The lights were warm and muted, wrapped in blurry orange halos of luminescence. The quiet was broken only be the chill music I was listening to, and even that seemed secondary. For a while, I actually ran with my eyes closed, just savoring the night and the moment. In that moment, I felt the presence of God. It was nothing overt or flashy... it was just a simple reminder of God's peace and presence.
It's good to know that, even when some things in life don't work out the way you would have liked them to and you're miserable and frustrated and lonely, God is there, in the stillness.
C.S. Lewis got it right, man.
I'm a runner. I'm not exactly a super dedicated runner like my dad, who trains for marathons and loves running races. To be honest, I've never understood why he (and others in my family) like races so much. They've never appealed to me.
That's probably reflective of why I run. I don't run for the joy of running or because it's a challenge. I run partly because I want to be in good shape, but the other part of why I run is, much like C.S. Lewis said, as a cure for ill thoughts. I run because it gives me time to think, helps me blow off some steam, and leaves me feeling good and worn out.
I also prefer running at night to running during the day. It's quieter at night. There's nobody mockingly cat calling me if I take off my shirt to stay cool. The few lights provide a nice ambiance. It's much easier to find peace of mind in the darkness.
Tonight I went out for a run. I'd been out of the groove for a week or so and even though I'd run yesterday, I needed to keep getting back into it. My mind was a little restless, too; too many troubling thoughts and silly hopes and foolish regrets rolling around upstairs. I needed to get out and sweat it out. I headed out at about 2:30, way after sane people are in bed. It was dark, quiet, and misting rain... perfect.
As I ran tonight, I stumbled upon a moment of beauty. I was running into the wind, enjoying the soft sting of rain and the cool breeze. The lights were warm and muted, wrapped in blurry orange halos of luminescence. The quiet was broken only be the chill music I was listening to, and even that seemed secondary. For a while, I actually ran with my eyes closed, just savoring the night and the moment. In that moment, I felt the presence of God. It was nothing overt or flashy... it was just a simple reminder of God's peace and presence.
It's good to know that, even when some things in life don't work out the way you would have liked them to and you're miserable and frustrated and lonely, God is there, in the stillness.
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