Agency

It was warm tonight. A rarity to be warm walking to the T. I couldn’t help but dancing. It felt so good to be alive. Tonight I sat in the same room where I sat almost three years ago now. And I felt so good. And I was in awe at how a few little decisions can change everything. The choices to follow the Spirit have landed me here, in Boston. Those decisions made back in Middlebury were dynamic. They still move. I can no longer give details of many of those choices. I do not remember the mental processes or any of my thinking, but I still remember one of the final ones. I was so scared. So scared of losing a friend, of offending, of overstepping boundaries like I seemed to keep doing. Another rejection or awkward e-mail back almost prevented me. A few small choices and a daring move, and now I am here, surrounded by goodness and so happy. So much joy has come from deciding to act when the Spirit spoke. I am overwhelmed by the amazing people I have met here. I can feel the power that is in these souls. And I am so thankful for a loving God. As I neared Harvard Square all I could think was that even if I don’t become rich and famous here, or go to school here, or find someone to marry here, I will still be so happy and forever grateful that I got to breathe the air, and walk down the street in Cambridge tonight.

later on

Sometimes it takes a while for my mind to compeltely digest changes, like no, you really are no longer a student, free to go and do whatever you please or no, you no longer get to only do missionary work 24 hours a day. Maybe it's the law of inertia, my mind doesn't want to stop and have to derail itself, picking up the iron wheels, turning about each car, and heaving them onto another set of tracks. Effort enough to make the switch, and then there's the implications; bumps underneath what was supposed to be smooth metal.

My writing, My blog

The writer was well-known. I ended up sitting on the floor in the space in between the two tiers in the auditorium. For him, his goal was to sit down, with only a glass of water, and write. Instead, he said that he usually ate a package of oreos, downed a two liter bottle of coke, and then began to write.

Pablo Neruda told the man that he must walk down the coast very slowly, and then the metaphors would come.

Barbara told us to always write. It must be a habit. Just write. She said that she was sure that all of us had experiences that sparked writing, and times when the pen flowed. “Well…if you want the lightening to strike,” she said, “you must be out in the field waving your arms, waiting to get hit.”