Nights, sometimes endless …Inside, a burning fever, a fever of fearing the future, but longing for more … a fever summoning me from the slumber I cherish. I feel like there is something wrong. This is not where I am supposed to be. This is not the way life is supposed to be, a paradox, accentuated by that quote: “The hardest place to be, is right where you’re at.”
It takes an effort to go into the place, metaphorically a small storage shed, where some thoughts might need to be tweaked or discarded; where emotions need to be checked; where self-pity needs to be conquered, left on the battlefield for the wild animals to feast on … And a question that resurrects me from my restless soul: “What do I know to be true?” I know that I am a good man, that I do have what it takes. I know that I do have hope, passion … That they are not gone. They just to be tapped and released. There is a process. And it is part of my calling to be faithful to the process, and there is some mystery in the process. That’s okay. And a restless soul is not always a bad thing.