The Running Man June 8, 2009

If there’s one thing that I have learned lately it is that you can never out run yourself. I’ve come to realize that this is something I have been trying to do for some time now. I never fully unpack anything; there’s always a box continually wrapped in tape or car ready to to leave. My toiletries have not left their carrying case in four years. What is it that I’m trying to escape from? It’s no wonder why I never quite feel settled or why my heart is restless. I think people have come to expect this of me.

But why do I run? I run to flee myself to find that better man but the more I run, it becomes clear that I’m not actually moving I’m on a treadmill working against myself. So instead of running my strides look more like this; smoking the stubs of other men’s cigarettes, drinking too often, going way to far with those I love, and  ignoring my heart. All the while my limbs furious flail and my  lungs burn for I am out of breath. This all leads to the truth, that I can not run from myself and the more I try the harder It gets to look at myself in the mirror. Maybe I wear this beard to mask what I have become; to hide these scars that have become so apparent.

But just as I cannot escape myself I know that I can never outrun grace. So maybe it’s time to stop running, be still, and know. Oh how I wish I could know. So I search for that calm and gather the courage to truly look myself in the mirror and take a deep breath of something other than smoke.

Restless June 8, 2009

I have forgotten what great sleep is like. This wonderful job and my new college graduate lifestyle  aka. poor person, has left me with a lot of restlessness. I am still in Spokane to my dismay. I have found myself traveling quite a bit looking at all the greener pastures that surround me in this desolate town. Just when I seem to find peace there I am forced to return to my Job or as I like to put it the Endless Night that is my life. For the first time in a long while I crave stability. I want to feel settled to be able to unpack a box and take ownership of a mattress. What happened to me? I used to love the idea of never knowing where I was going to sleep in a Jack Kerouac-vagabond lifestyle. Although I look homeless with my new beard; I think in a way I grew it to have a companion on this journey. Don’t think I’m crazy I swear my mustache really does have it’s own personality. 

So I sit in this place restless on a journey with no forward momentum. Maybe I’ll try to remember the gentle whisper of the wind blowing through the pines as I sleep in my tepee, that always got me to sleep.