Some Days

Dreams. I still have this fascination with dreams. It makes me think of the book "The Cloud Spinner" or the game "Psychonauts." It makes me think of how the elves in "Eragon" sung their homes out of the trees. It makes me think of Einstein who would always laud imagination over knowledge. It makes me think of people who spurn fiction because it's a "waste of time." It makes me think of all the truths that evade us because we're too comfortable thinking we can understand the universe.

Some days, this planet seems like a gray, dusty corpse, slowly stinking its way into oblivion. Some days, it seems like an enchanted forest, hiding fairies and friendly dragons. Some days, I'm so tired, and I just want Jesus to come back. Some days, I feel this insatiable desire to explore and discover. Some days, it seems that drudging away the decades is the mature, responsible thing to do. Some days, that seems like the most egregious misuse of my time I could make.

Sometimes, it's a little terrifying how stifled/stifling some people are. I understand being angry. I understand being selfish. I understand being afraid or needy or timid or despairing. I don't understand the stifle. I don't understand the quiet cages we like to make for ourselves or for others. Sometimes—and this is much rarer—it's inspiring how warm people can be. I don't mean warm like 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit. I mean the kind of warm where a person can paint your gray, dusty horizon with new hopes. I mean the kind of warm that hugs you even when you have many bloody wounds, the kind that hugs you, takes some of your wounds, and welcomes them. I mean the kind of warm that steps sideways out of the hectic flurry and invites you to share their simple joy.