Tonight (oh glorious night!)

    . . . has been glorious. It’s hard to put this in to words, but I’l try anyway.

    Ever since L-school finals ended I have felt like I’ve been in a haze of sorts. I felt unable to change gears to the summer routine. Finals had been such an intense time, of studying and terror, cigarettes and coffee and power bars; passing from that time to the next didn’t seem real yet..

    The last few days though, I’ve been slowly waking up. I decided not to go back to work immediately as planned (at my Dad’s law office — a good job but one that can be rather intense). Since I did need to make some dinero though, I’ve been doing some landscaping work for my Dad at the office and at my folks’ house, but otherwise have been mostly working in my own garden and just be-ing.

    That brings us to today. The afternoon was spent digging out old weedy flower beds at the office, then adding new soil and planting stuff. — It doesn’t seem that hard, but believe me those beds were a mess with old tangled bermuda grass and sundry weeds. By evening, I was wore out and my body ached so I took a long shower and then drove to Norman to chill out at the Border’s bookstore for awhile.

    I wandered several of my favorite sections thumbing through books: first gardening, then religion, and finally settled on books about writing and getting published. In the midst of my browsing, I stumbled across a little paperback volume that contained the supersonic velocity that I believe has already changed my life… If you want to write: A book about Art, Independence, and Spirit by Brenda Ueland.

    I can’t really explain why this book resonated so, but it did (and I’ve only read the first 30 pages or so thus far). She takes the thoughts of Emerson, mixes them with the Christian-mystic-madness-joyfulness of William Blake, jumps into the mind of Van Gogh, and then proceeds to pluck kernels from Tolstoi’s head… and does all of this is the most pithy, irreverent, and downright joyful prose I’ve read in eons!

    Of course I bought the book (along with Freedom of Simplicity by Richard Foster, also the author of A Celebration of Discipline) and read till closing time. After Border’s closed, I walked out into the field behind the store (just a vacant field, often full of wildflowers… strangely enough a place where I’ve often gone to pray when in Norman) in the fullmoon lit night with clouds at times playing peekaboo with the moon, and prayed like I haven’t in a long time. It was so, so good.

    It seemed like a lot of things came together all at once. I felt the reawakening of my dormant desire to write. I felt the goodness of lifting my arms out into the night sky and feeling the breeze. I also felt remarkably free. . . strangely enough, I felt in my heart that I had finally shed some of the pervasive guilt and surrow that has been stalking my soul. I don’t really care to go into detail about the particular issues that I was experiencing guilt over (sorry, just a tad bit too public, but I’ll be glad to share the story with any friend who asks off-line), but I finally came to realize that the guilt I was experiencing was NOT from God. There was something about this revelation of freedom and the empowering glorious feeling of the cool breeze in this May night that made me feel so alive!

    I still can’t explain what happened tonight and reading back over this post, I don’t think I explained it well at all, but that’s the story. I do know for sure that’s its time to live completely this summer. I may or may not work at the office some, I haven’t decided that yet, but I KNOW that I will write. I have at least two books bouncing around in my skull and my heart and its high time to get them written. My first priority this summer will be to write. The rest might just have to go on the backburner.