Bikes and Community
I am sitting in a place called Filter. It's not quite a Starbucks, but all coffee shops are charming in their various ways. I don't have access to WiFi; this changes only a little bit, but I don't really know what I'm rambling. Really, I'm just trying to do brain drain, trying to let out the cluttered thoughts to make way for Meadowvale.
Since the tables are hightops, they're rather shallow. In other words, I have only about a foot and a half from where the table begins to where the wall begins. My little screen is to my left, and my keyboard is to my right. It works I suppose. I hope it's not too crazy for writing story stuff. In some sense, I feel it might be better: I can stare out the window as I type words, and it feels almost freer because I'm not locking myself up in the words or structure of them.
I don't have a helmet, but I rode a bike to the coffee shop today! I may have mentioned that I'm visiting my brother in DC. I did; I remember now. In any case, I'm visiting him, and he has lent me his bike for this little outing. I need a bike! I would like a bike. They're marvelous machines.
I have seen a few people outside with sweatshirts! That's too bloody warm. To each his own I suppose.
There's a bloke next to me who graciously moved over so that I could access the outlet to plug in my little machine. He seems to be doing a lot of thinking. He has the tiniest notebook—even tinier than my pocket journal thing. The caption on the back of his book: "How is it possible to rediscover psychoanalysis with each patient?" That is a good question.
In any case, I could possibly do the city. I feel like there has to be another place where communities are hiding though. Admittedly, I haven't properly tried to find them close to home yet. "Irony" has such a slippery definition, but I think it is ironic how hard it feels to find community in church. I forget where I read the article, but one of the strongest drawing factors to gangs, addictions, and so many other stereotypically deviant activities is the sense of community or family.
I've never done any drugs, and I won't be joining any gangs, but it often makes me wonder what we're doing wrong. Our theology is in order though; admittedly, that's what keeps me hooked. I'm a strong proponent of the magical power of truth and practicing truth. Perhaps, however, it is like the common aversion to mixing math and poetry: they seem dichotomous, so they should never occur in the same place. In other words, community and theology seem incongruous, so you get to pick one or the other. I've never understood that, but then I've never properly understood the aversion to math, poetry, or both.
Hard work maybe? Maybe that's the issue: community is hard work. Really bloody hard work. As I've been attempting to connect with people in general, I encounter a million barriers, not the least of which are schedules. Personalities are high on that list. Theology is a close follower. Distance probably should go near the top. Fears are somewhere in the upper half. Blah humbug. Baby steps I suppose.
For now, I'm gonna go see what Meadowvale has to say about life.
I have seen a few people outside with sweatshirts! That's too bloody warm. To each his own I suppose.
There's a bloke next to me who graciously moved over so that I could access the outlet to plug in my little machine. He seems to be doing a lot of thinking. He has the tiniest notebook—even tinier than my pocket journal thing. The caption on the back of his book: "How is it possible to rediscover psychoanalysis with each patient?" That is a good question.
In any case, I could possibly do the city. I feel like there has to be another place where communities are hiding though. Admittedly, I haven't properly tried to find them close to home yet. "Irony" has such a slippery definition, but I think it is ironic how hard it feels to find community in church. I forget where I read the article, but one of the strongest drawing factors to gangs, addictions, and so many other stereotypically deviant activities is the sense of community or family.
I've never done any drugs, and I won't be joining any gangs, but it often makes me wonder what we're doing wrong. Our theology is in order though; admittedly, that's what keeps me hooked. I'm a strong proponent of the magical power of truth and practicing truth. Perhaps, however, it is like the common aversion to mixing math and poetry: they seem dichotomous, so they should never occur in the same place. In other words, community and theology seem incongruous, so you get to pick one or the other. I've never understood that, but then I've never properly understood the aversion to math, poetry, or both.
Hard work maybe? Maybe that's the issue: community is hard work. Really bloody hard work. As I've been attempting to connect with people in general, I encounter a million barriers, not the least of which are schedules. Personalities are high on that list. Theology is a close follower. Distance probably should go near the top. Fears are somewhere in the upper half. Blah humbug. Baby steps I suppose.
For now, I'm gonna go see what Meadowvale has to say about life.
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