The day is already a little warm, there is no breeze. Very dry as well, I wake up in the night with my mouth parched. The oak leaves are emerging noticeably more. The animals seem to be retreating from the day, very few were out during my morning walk. Only the sound of a raven in the distance, and the requisite jays.

I go through this day in sections, beginning very early, at 2:30, finding myself wide awake and ready for the day. So I get up and work until 6:00, then fall back asleep for a couple of hours.

In the dark of the very early morning I felt a need to pray and a draw to consider. Something has not felt right in these writings, something which I knew and didn’t know, a lesson to be learned from missteps.

It is the fact that I am not living in the present. I speak of doing the tasks before me, only my eyes are looking far past. Such is much of this writing, an encouragement to myself as much a consideration of the world.

I look back into the past, wondering if I went wrong, I look ahead to the future, wondering if I am doing what is right, checking myself in the present to attempt a better strategy. Given my status and goals, that of course is not the best rule, and upsets that which I hope to become.

So, I tend to wallow, focus on the unspiritual spirituality, having faith in part, betraying it in others, grumbling through the use of theological analysis.

Last night I said I have no rest. It is because I will not allow it, I will not rest in faith. The tasks going beyond just standing. In awaiting the tide or silence I worry, lose my peace I am not supposed to lose. Mainly because I do not trust myself, nor the Spirit in me. I go along, almost unwillingly, begrudging the movement away and towards. But at my heart I do not believe, I do not trust. I trust enough to follow the way before me, to distrust the paths which others say lead to life, to seek the trails which lead higher and farther, only I do not trust enough to be content along the way, to view the sights and sounds of the path I am on.

That is a measure of my own soul, my youthfulness revealed. The more deeply I see, the more distant everything becomes, the more I see as obstacles and faults standing in the way. Mountains are deceptive as one approaches, they emerge from the horizon grand and inviting, yet for many, many miles they stay the same, with a feeling coming that one will never come near. Then one day, they are before you and you begin to climb.

I see the mountain, I have not yet begun to climb it. It is the transformation from one life to the next, in an eternal and practical way, in a way which I am learning, only am too slow in doing. I am called to a life I am unsuited for, I think. My natural state is shallow, energetic, wanting to lead and accomplish, wanting to establish and build, to fight. Yet, the wall descends, the Hand has steered, with my heart telling me with undoubted words it is not wrong for my way to have been blocked, and so to fight is to fight him who steers.

Thus, I follow, not letting loose those things which bind, missing friends, missing the ‘could have beens’ or ‘only ifs’, willing to cast all of this I say away for the taste of acceptance and success, for the sake of work paid for, and esteem gained.

It shows the paucity of this age that I can feel mature in a Christian setting, feel myself farther along than many. In some ways I am to be sure, only I’m not far at all. Have I even really begun to understand what this life means?

I don’t think I have. The road lies long before me, and I travel it in solitude.