This probably doesn't make any sense.

I've been wondering for a while how much of experience is focusing on the experience itself. We started our Digital Storytelling class tonight discussing what should remain the same and what should change as far as the number and structures of weekly assignments go. The liberty to express these thoughts comes from the first-time experimental nature of this class. Sure, Jim Groom scheduled one class period where we all sat and deliberately discussed the nature of our class, but I feel like 90% of the experience of this class has truly been discussing it--through blogs, through questions, etc. My freshman seminar was much the same in this regard.

So then I think about Sadie taking pictures all the time and when I asked her, "How much of living an experience for you is documenting the experience?"--to which she responded, "A lot."

And then I look at myself and a lot of frustrated Christian friends who say things along the lines of, "We need to stop talking about serving God and actually SERVE God."

Of course, this opens a floodgate: "What do you define as an experience?" All I'm saying is... there's a lot of saying. This blog post is me writing about the experience of experience. That makes it difficult for me to get to my point. But I'll get there... maybe.

Something's gotta be said about those implied scenes between scenes in TV shows, movies, and books. We can't exactly cut those out of our own lives, so what of them? Are they insignificant for our own life stories? I'm sure I'd get a resounding "no" in response to such a question. Truth is, the all-encompassing story of your life is not the ideal. You spent too much time blaming that person or situation for something that was wrong instead of being that transition out of the wrong. Perhaps those are scenes you'd like to cut off the reel, but you know still that they are significant. You are that person who says, "I really don't regret anything, because anything brought me to everything I am and know today."

That makes anything part of experience, and that makes talking about and documenting and mulling over experience worthwhile. Some could argue it's like pushing the pause button and living a life detached from "real life." But maybe it really is just those scenes between scenes. You can't be removed from yourself.

But you can appeal to Something that is much removed from who you are and what you were born into. For me, this is the significance of feeling like I'm going outside of myself--because it makes me vulnerable to the Holy Spirit I have dwelling within me. There's not often enough room under my "heart bed" to shove all the crap so that I can open up that space for God to really dwell in me and use me as a vessel for His purposes. It gets so dark in this here body. Cluttered and lonely.

So I have to talk about that experience. I have to take a part of my life to talk about a part of my life. I'm sorry if I've lost you in all my crazy speak, but I think the point I'm finally coming to is that my life is not wasted. Despite the ubiquity of my sins, I should never be defeated by them. Though I must take the time to right some wrongs or even figure out what is right, and though that time may be relatively long, it's not wasted. And that's where you gotta be and what you gotta know to press on. That's how you stop complaining and start doing. It's in the experience of the experience of the experience just as much as it's in the original experience.

Ouch, my head. My apologies for your head, too, if you made it here and followed any of that.

Back to the experience itself again. Hello, Abstract Algebra.

Wishing and Hoping and Thinking and Praying

...which brought to the forefront of my mind this song from camp we used to sing around the campfire. I always took so much from these words, as we'd typically sing them on the last night of a session. It spoke to my position as a very blatant servant, teaching children about Christ's love and what it means to trust in God and have faith.

"Lord, I Want To Know Your Vision"

Lord, I want to know your vision,

Though I'm in a foreign land

Give me heartache for the hungry

And the grace to understand.

Lead me to the ones who suffer,

Those whose hearts cannot find rest.

Lord, I want to know your vision.

Put me where I can serve best.

Take my life as a sacrifice.

Let me see your good deeds.

Humble me as I serve thee.

May the glory be yours...

"Blessed be the name of God forever and ever, to whom belong wisdom and might. He changes times and seasons; he removes kings and sets up kings; he gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to those who have understanding; he reveals deep and hidden things; he knows what is in the darkness, and the light dwells with him. To you, O God of my fathers, I give thanks and praise, for you have given me wisdom and might, and have now made known to me what we asked of you, for you have made known to us the king's matter." -Daniel 2: 20-23

I Feel It All

There's been a tightening in my chest since Friday morning, and I don't understand where it came from or why it's there. For as of Friday morning at 10:00, UMW has been closed, so I've been supposedly living free of stress and anxiety. But as circumstances theoretically wouldn't have foretold, I am feeling quite the opposite. Something is heavy on me, and it's something that clearly shouldn't simply be ignored.

My old roommate Gilmore came over today, and we talked about her life, trying to sort through some of the nitty gritty and gain perspective on the overall. The conversation was good for her, and it was good for me as well. I realize how optimistic my views really are when I have that sort of time to meditate on and share them, and I also renew my sense of how much I really do long for Divine presence and purpose in my life. It was also nice to hear where she's been in her mind recently and to what place she has come. It's a little strange to not get the play-by-play like I used to, but there is something particularly more meaningful and necessary about this once in a blue moon mode of conversations we have going on.

Just like there's something particularly meaningful and necessary about my (no longer so) new living situation with Sadie. Her shared thoughts and perspectives have been more than encouraging to me ever since our first late-into-the-night conversation, and it's these examples of evolved relationships that bring me a greater sense of Divine presence and purpose.

It's the evolution of everything, really. It's seeing God here and there and everywhere. It's seeking God here, there and everywhere. It's knowing that even though I'm alone right now, I'm not alone right now. It's a tightening in my chest telling me that everything is so relevant. Take it all in. All of it. It's tears in my eyes because there's nothing else to do with this feeling but cry it out. Not because it's bad but because it's needed. It's finally feeling like He's got it and finally not taking that for granted. It's fear, relief, urgency, rest, desperation, and contentment. Most importantly, it's God, and it's God's love for me.