Stream of Consciousness

I never anticipated that I would love being alone so much. There's a certain kind of joy that comes from being able to go where you want, when you want and do what you want.  Often I find myself in a quiet(ish) place, staring out at the sky, lost in thoughtful world of meandering ideas.  Mostly, I have different life situations vying for my brain's full attention. Sometimes I focus on my faith, others on my friends, and more often than I'd really care to admit, on the state of my love life.

I've become a philosopher of sorts these days. Not that I would share my musing with anyone.  Chances are by the time I've figured out exactly what words to put to my thoughts, my brain shifts and the idea has fallen back into the lake of my mind with a silent but rippling drop, never to be that individually identified again.  I like this.  Despite how often I beg for answers, for change, for a different voice to speak up, I really do like allowing my mind the space to work through life moment by moment.  I like sitting in a place, surrounded by oblivious others, on the verge of tears one minute and blissfully happy the next. I like the chances I have to savor each moment exactly when it comes to me without having to wait for someone to stop talking or to ask them to pause and notice it themselves.

I like the feeling that sometimes I'm doing exactly what Jesus did by going off by myself to a quiet place to pray. Away from the crowds and yet still so very much tied to them.  I like to think that, like me, Jesus' prayers weren't always eloquent or long-winded. I like to think that he just sat IN himself, like I often find myself doing.  Not overtly thinking, asking, reporting or praising, but simply sitting. Allowing the emotion of the moment to drift into every fiber of my being.  Sometimes it is wafting contentment, other times an oppressive sorrow, but always the feeling that honor is being given to God with each silent breath.

Tonight, as usual, my heart pounds unceasingly for the attention of my head.  Remember me? it asks. I'm that thing in your chest that feels like it has a straight jacket on. Answer me! Find me relief. Shine light into my darkened day.  The scream is always the same. Let me love. Let me be loved.  Love. Love. Love.  And yet no matter how much my mind wants to help, I cannot think the antidote of my hearts lament into existence. When I try to assuage the pain with thoughts of what could be, my heart immediately knows them for the lies that they are and becomes more acutely aware of the passage of time. 

I don't know what to do. So I go back into the moment. I feel the weight. And a simple prayer rises to the surface. And it is enough.

Help.