Time is behaving strangely, and honestly, the conversations that I had last week feel very long ago. I am looking forward to reconnecting with my group this week, but after a weekend packed with challenging board meetings, I’m exhausted and distracted. Not feeling very spiritually settled.
Talking to my group last week, I felt an immediate connection. We talked about the presence of the Spirit among us. I was so happy to be placed in a group with people whom I’d never met, but they already feel more familiar after just one conversation. We found powerful threads through all of our stories, but hearing Leah discuss her writing had a particular impact on me because she reminded me of my former all-consuming love for writing, back before I went off to college and it became a lot more complicated, tangled up with the pressure to produce and succeed in the capitalist literary world. Hearing from her made me want to write again. I do write, I mean – I journal almost daily, I’ve been writing academic papers in undergrad and grad school for the last seven years, etc. – but what about poetry and fiction? Could I reconnect to that part of myself? How could doing so help me connect to God?
In terms of discerning next steps, I’m confused because I’ve been sitting with my own comfort. I don’t mind living with my parents. I don’t feel the same consuming angst here that I often feel in NYC, the voice in my head telling me to find a partner, get more friends, be successful, etc. Those anxieties are still there, but they are pushed to the background. I’m actually happy spending my days with my parents and my extended family, spread across three households nestled in the woods on this dirt road. There’s social pressure saying that I shouldn’t live with my parents, but I feel safe and comfortable. But what about the social needs that I can’t meet here? Staying forever isn’t an option, but I don’t know where to go. Trying to look forward while simultaneously being present here (and letting myself learn from my presence here) is unsettling.