It's been rather quiet over here the past few weeks.
Quiet on the blog, to clarify. Outside of that, my life has actually been pretty loud. And it's even felt like a bit of its own cardboard world, what with the moving boxes and all.
I decided to move to Duluth several months ago, but it was just recently made into reality, something I wasn't actually prepared for. I've never lived beyond my hometown, and while I know I'm a late bloomer at this whole 'moving out and away' thing, it still has been quite the transition learning to navigate an entirely new city. And by that, I mean learning to drive on funky-crazy roads, applying for jobs like a madman, trying to create some semblance of a writing schedule (...about that), and getting used to waking up and not having classes. Seriously. I think that last part has been the hardest, getting over this idea that I'm somehow more lazy or irresponsible for not having homework, but learning instead to plant myself and flourish in this current season. Because it will only be for a second, and then the seasons will shift; on toward another spring.
But I'm learning to love it here, I really am, and each day feels more and more like I'm where I'm supposed to be, even when I don't have it all figured out. Most days I still fall asleep with more questions than answers.
Isn't that just how life is most of the time?
I decided halfway through last semester that the intensive loads of homework didn't allow ample time to work on Yellowtree. I realized how passionate I had become about pursuing the craft of writing and specifically about finishing Yellowtree and trying to get it published, and yet had no time to do anything about it. None of my time spent writing ever felt peaceful, as there was always one more paper due, one more assignment to finish. You're never really done with schoolwork, you know? Which is kind of the point. It's a continual experience of learning and doing, working hard and then working harder, which I absolutely love. I still fully intend on returning to school after this next year to immerse myself in that process all over again.
But for this year, this season, it feels right to take some time to step away from the rush of the college environment, look around with wide eyes, and find God in new spaces. For I feel him so clearly when I'm writing, when I'm plugging away at a new chapter or a new blog post, and it's like breathing him in with each word sprung to life. I know God lives in the cracks and crevices of Yellowtree's sentences, and I get so excited thinking about having the time now to fully engage myself in the labor of taking what I've written and throwing it through the ringer a couple billion times.
This is the work of writing, and I'm so unbelievably excited.
Slowly, but surely, it's being woven into the daily rhythm of how I live life, like a muscle being trained and stretched, not all at once, but diligently over time.
There are still quite a few I don't knows (which I'm learning to be okay with, if you've read my last post). I don't know where I'm going to work, if I'll find a job sooner or later, where I'll go to church, or if I'll have success driving these perilous roads during the harsh winter. I don't know if I'll find Yellowtree a publisher, if this year will pan out like I'm hoping, or if it will end up completely crashing and burning.
But I do know that God is with me, that he's just as present here as he would've been had I gone back to school. I know that living in Duluth is like living on the freaking ocean, and that I feel closer to myself, to God, and to others when I'm breathing in the fresh air of a wide open space such as this. I know that I'm rooming with one of my close friends, and that there is so much joy in the small things, the day-to-day things, the simple living life things that help me feel like more whole of a person. I know that it is possible to wake up every morning and choose Love over hate, gratitude over complaints, and trust over fear.
The things I know aren't as clear cut or solidified as those that I don't. But spreading throughout all of them is something hopeful, something that tells me to keep walking forward and to keep on trying, with wobbly steps and shaking skin, to live in that place where there is no fear, there are no lies. To hold onto a childlike faith, those big open eyes that experience old and new things alike with the same kind of unfiltered excitement and joy. To take the time to slow down, look around, breathe in deep, and maybe learn something about the world while I'm at it.
Yes, this is my fresh air, and this is me learning to breathe it.
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UPDATE: Part of having increased time for writing also means increased time for cultivating consistency on the blog. I do plan on falling into a routine and setting up a weekly schedule for posting that doesn't leave people guessing as to when I'll post next. This will be challenging, but I believe it'll be a healthy step forward. Until then!
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