One thing you'd leave said ...

So I read the book Gilead by Marilynne Robinson this month for the IAM Reader's Guild. I've already mentioned this. The book is essentially one long letter, novel-length, from an elderly pastor to his young son. He writes to share with his son all the wisdom and stories he wishes he were going to live to tell him, but knows that when the son is old enough to understand them, he himself will be long gone.
A few days after finishing, I had a revelation about revelations.
At this point in my life, if I were going to leave one piece of information to my offspring, here's what I'd say:
The revelation that Life really is beautiful will often strike you at seemingly random times; treasure those moments; take even just a brief second to revel in them before returning to your regular scheduled programming. It will seem almost as if everything has suddenly become very vivid color - almost glossy - where before it has been flat and matte. And it will strike for a very short period of time, and then the world will return to being matte. It doesn't make life any less beautiful. And you will try to hold on to those vivid moments, especially when the world becomes grayscale, but don't waste too much time or energy trying to hard, because you won't succeed as well as you'd like to. But you should still try. And when the world does become grey, try to remember the vivid colors so as not to lose one second of your Life on this Earth.

It's not infinitely practical, but in my life, right now, I find it exceedingly important to remember.

What would you say?

Vocabular Nihilism

What if you don't have anything to say?

I knew this would happen

I knew if I didn't go home and write right away, I wouldn't remember what I wanted to say.
But I went to the party anyway. Because I wanted to be around people. And it was the right choice. It was very very good. But now I'm finally home, and after opening my mouth when I really should've kept it shut, I have nothing to say because I didn't go home and "open my mouth" and instead I kept it shut.
But basically, I live in Cleveland now. And I have been fighting this truth for a long time. I knew it was coming, but still, I tried to deny it. And I knew that eventually I was going to like it, but I tried to deny that, too. The good news is, it's been a week and I already like Cleveland. We had a rocky start, but nothing actually all that bad. Just exhausting.
Then tonight I went to a free dance showcase and there is just some plain old incredible stuff going on dance-wise in Cleveland. No joke. I was hugely hugely impressed.
Especially with Inlet Dance, which had been recommended to me and for which one of my new coworkers dances. Small world, eh?
The showcase in general, though. Top notch! I basically just smiled from ear to ear and actually found myself teary-eyed at all the beauty I saw.
It reminded me of the book I finished reading right before I went: Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. It's the IAM Reader's Guild book of the month this month. Just as I was leaving the house to go to the showcase, I underlined this line:

I think there must also be a prevenient courage that allows us to be brave -- that is, to acknowledge that there is more beauty than our eyes can bear, that precious things have been put into our hands and to do nothing to honor them is to do great harm.

(The bold and italics are mine.)

It also makes me think of the Ingrid Michaelson song "Are We There Yet?" My favorite point in the song is where she gets to the line "This is too much for me to hold."

I'm currently really enthralled with the idea of "too much." This idea that there is so much beyond what we see and experience, and that it is to much to ever experience it all. And that should be frustrating, but instead I find it invigorating and encouraging. And I know there's too much, but I can't seem to get enough, but it's okay, because I know there's more. And the idea of putting for effort into even just trying to tap into that which lies beyond.
And to a certain extent, I think we're created for that. We're created to desire more than what we know or even can know. Because we're created to desire God. And there's so much more to Him, because He is everything. Things thought of and things forgotten.

I'm rambling again. I should not be allowed to communicate or attempt to communicate after 10 p.m. I normally say 11. But truthfully, I think it's 10. Seriously. My brain starts shutting down at 10. And I should probably respect this pattern and allow my body to try to follow suit. It'd probably thank me for it.