Monk on The Road

I preferred dark roast coffee.

I believed my intuition reliably told the Truth.

I wouldn’t mix my metals, or my neutrals. Gold and silver at the same time? Black dress, brown boots? Not for me.

I’ve changed my mind about all that.

 

I used to think someone had the answers; that if I just read one more book, had coffee with one more person, bookmarked one more blog, went to one more group, took one more meeting, that someone, anyone would be able to tell me definitively how it’s done. How to live this life better, how to live it well.

I’ve changed my mind about all that.

I’m able to control spray-paint and adhesive. I don’t need a drop cloth. It’s not that windy. I can do this in 15 minutes.

I’ve changed my mind about all that.

I used to think that between prayer and my spiritual director, I had a clear-as-a churchbell ear to God; that when I prayed or “heard” something it was God’s voice and I had license to go with it. Unbridled, to go for it. There was a kind of invincibility that came from the mere attempt to be obedient to God.I thought I could know what was coming next.

I prayed, I know God’s will,  I got this.

I’ve changed my mind about all that.

I used to think I am my profession. “I’m pre-med. I’m a teacher. I’m a boarding school teacher. I’m a church-planter. I’m a college minister. I’m a theologian. I’m a teacher (again, for real this time). I’m a writer.

I used to think I was an explorer, tribe-builder, welcomer, hostess, documenter, organizer, unifier, planner, celebrator, preacher.

I’ve changed my mind about all that.

I think I write like a girl. It wasn’t ok to “write like a girl.” No one would read it or buy it.

I’ve changed my mind about all that.

You can’t make a living as a writer. Writing is a hobby, not a profession—that is, unless you’re one of the chosen ones, appointed by some mysterious and magical force in the universe to live your dreams (like rock stars) and write books and get paid for words. Unless you’re mystically special, it’s out of the question.

I’ve changed my mind about all that.

I’m too cool, too sophisticated for Taylor Swift.

I’ve changed my mind about all that.

If I do it right, I only have to fall in love once. If I am careful, I can be wise and avoid heartbreak. I’ll be able to know  up front who’s The One and when it’s time. My List will guide me. When it comes to relationships, I know what I’m doing.

I’ve changed my mind about all that.

I hated hiking. Hiking is transportation, not entertainment. I hated the outdoors.

I’ve changed my mind about all that.

If I don’t take myself seriously, all the time, no one else will.

I’ve changed my mind about all that.

I had to know “what I’m doing with my life.” I have to have something to show for myself. I have to be working toward a narrowly-defined goal, or I’m not doing anything. I have to be up before 9am, or I’m lazy.

I’ve changed my mind about all that.

I can’t wear that. I can’t wear chambray shirts, ankle boots, skinny jeans, lace cut-outs, accessories beyond a scarf, layers in my long hair. It doesn’t work for me.

I’ve changed my mind about all that

I can’t be different from my people.  I have to be like them, like what they like, love what they love, dress like they do, do what they do, believe what they believe, or I won’t belong. I have to be understood before I can be embraced. I have to understand before I can  embrace.

I’ve changed my mind about all that.

That glitter DIY project was totally under control.

I’ve changed my mind about all that.

When I stop feeling the closeness of God, when I am in the dark, when I am without clarity or consolation, it’s because God has withdrawn from me. It’s because I earned His wrath. There is no Love in that. I control the nearness of God with how well I behave, with how well I perform. If I’m hurting and lost it’s my fault; it’s because I failed.

I’ve changed my mind about all that.

I thought I’d never feel from anywhere.

I’ve changed my mind about all that.

The thing is, for five minutes, it feels like I know what I’m doing. For five minutes, I know what I’m talking about. 

For those five minutes, I do. 

Thankfully, certainty has a short shelf life.

Peace is possible without it;   perhaps real Truth and Freedom begin when certainty expires.