I live almost exclusively in the future. That is, in plans and dreams. In possibilities and abstractions.  At least, I did until last March. That set a course of alternate wandering and waiting, running and resting. I still try to live in the future. It is still where I derive meaning from. The only difference is lately, I have been rather unsuccessful. Still, I try.

And I wonder if that is as it should be. At the same time, I wonder if I can change that. My curiosity pulls me forward. I want to prove myself. Prove myself what? To whom? I am beginning to recognize that in this place, this desert I am being given a mirror that could show me what particles and pieces make and govern me. In this desert, it is becoming more difficult to divide what I want, what I fear, and what I believe God has for me. I find myself stopping puzzled, trying to remember, "did he really say that?" ...or was that some treacherous, false hope? Was it confidence or pride that led me to the decisions I have made?

I think I want to prove to myself that I can be happy, that I can find contentment. I think it terrifies me to give up on being a mechanic because it feels like putting myself further away from flight school. And flight school has been the goal for so long now that I can no longer imagine a future without it. I think I would like to teach flight lessons. 

I think I want to prove to myself that I can contribute to society, can take care of myself, and can be content all at the same time. Content. I want to know that I won't always be looking for something more, that my identity is not in the movement, the striving, the success, or the forward momentum. 

I want to prove to myself that I am capable. Capable of what? Of recognizing when I have enough. Of stabilizing in some way. Of success without greed. Of achievement without selfish ambition. 

And I think I want to know that it was not a waste, the path I chose. I want to know that I chose it for sound reasons, even if I could not always explain them. 

Most of all, I want to solve my paradox. That is this: that I am awed by and indeed ache for adventure yet I was born feeling already old and desiring a small life. How does one pair adventure with a small life? Do I want adventure because I am irresponsible, young, or foolish? Do I think about it to distract myself from monotony? (Why do monotony and routine seem as evil tyrants to me?) Conversely, do I desire a small life because I lack confidence? (I do lack confidence you know, except for very brief moments of boldness.) Do I want something small because I can control it? Ah, control! Is that what this is all about? Am I at war with myself seeking both to be in control and to lose all control at once? 

Possibly. 

Probably. 

I would do that to myself. 

It may seem easy enough to chide me with the advice to give control over to God. But really, what does that mean? What does that look like? And what if I have misunderstood God all of this time?

Yes, I am at war with myself but with the best intentions. 

I have begun to pray for solid ground to find my frantic feet.

On a totally unrelated note: