It's been a while — too long, really — since I've written, I know. So you know, I've started a few entries, but haven't been able to get my thoughts quite together or, I guess, coming out the way I want them to. Those posts will come later. This one's been building up for a while. Regardless, I'm sorry for not sharing lately.
I'm not entirely sure why I'd feel guilty. I'm not sorry to the internet and I doubt that there are many readers that expect regular rants from me or look forward to them enough to be hurt by their absence, but for all the emotions that I have and am so bad at expressing in words or in person, I feel this is a place where I need to let them out. And I haven't. I haven't.
So here's a blob of emotional goop that doesn't have any personal application in my life right now, but wells up every once in a while and has been brought to an emotional head by some random occurrences.
More than a month ago, one of my favorite bloggers suddenly stopped posting. Another one has said that she's been overwhelmed by blogging and has discontinued her blog altogether. It probably shouldn't feel as big as it does, but I've felt very connected to these folks through their writing and miss them dearly as they've moved on to other things.
I didn't see the episode, but last weeks SNL was Kristen Wiig's last show as a cast member. She's moving on. I want you read something, your first of two reading assignments of the day. I'm not even a fan of Wiig, but the pop culture blog at NPR posted an entry about the show that will help us get where I'm going. The last paragraph is the part that really matters.
This weekend, I drove up to Denton to attend the final few days of the International Horn Symposium. It was a thrill for me, though not as large as one might expect for an international convention. The symposium isn't really what I want to talk about right now, though. The first exciting part of the weekend for me came before even arriving where I was staying. It was a feeling I get a handful of times a year and one that never gets old. That feeling is the one of driving on a road on which I've never traveled before. Though it was only my home for a weekend, my blood rushed as I drove into Denton, a new place for me, one that I'd never seen, whose food I'd never eaten, whose people I'd never met. There's something stirring about things we haven't done before, isn't there? I'm not sure if that goes away ever, but I hope not.
The other thing I want you to read is here. I don't care what you think about the author. I just want you to read the Author's Note at the beginning; it's 5 pages, but the text is big and it's quick. Don't let me lose you yet; I’ve even stuck this one at the bottum of the page so you don’t have to click away.
You see, here's the thing about that about getting to that "new road" feeling and what brings all these snippets together. To get there, you have to leave. You get to kind of borrow the feeling for a while when you go on vacation or take a road trip, but moving forward requires, well, moving. It was almost 10 years. Just a few days ago, I crossed the line that put me living in here for more than a third of my life and perhaps that's what started this all.
Now, Beaumont folks, don't think that I'm going somewhere. But I want you to feel what I feel. Just know that's what it takes to grow. You've got to leave something: a place, a company, an action, a lifestyle. We never stop outgrowing our boots and maybe that's why I've been so stirred.
"My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning ones as a way of understanding God… And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don't worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed."
Blessings and Shalom,