A Jeep Renegade and Stretched Thin Moments

My family has an old beat-up Jeep Renegade, circa 1970-something.  It has made the rounds between my mom, my uncle, my brother, and storage.  It has definitely seen better days - it's without a top anymore, has acquired a bullet hole in the windshield (I know there's a story behind that, but I can't recall it exactly), and various parts and pieces of the interior are missing.  The seats have been replaced and there are no doors to it.  It's probably a safety hazard by most standards.  I think it at least still has seat belts, so that's gotta be good for something.

It's basically been sitting dormant for a couple of years in my parents' barn.  My brother had been working on it for awhile, replacing the radiator and what not, trying to get it to at least a functional status.

But I remember coming back from Kenya the first time, nearly 5 years ago now.  The jeep was functional at that point in time and my brother would often ask me if I wanted to go for a spin in it with him.  If we could load his dog's fat rear-end up into the back, he'd sometimes go with us as well. The jeep was a cranky manual with a gear shift that might as well be a mile long, and since I don't know how to drive a manual, he was always in the driver's seat.

I loved those jeep rides.  I loved climbing up in that seat, with no doors, no windows and a bullet-pegged windshield, and just driving.  We'd get to the end of the road and he'd tell me to pick a direction.  We'd hit another dead-end and we'd pick the next direction.  No purpose, no direction, no final destination, no thought, no radio, no cares.

It was like therapy without the therapist or the couch or the price tag.

And I relished those rides.  And I relished even more that I wasn't in the driver's seat.  I didn't have to think and I didn't have to be in control for a change.  I could just hang my hand out the window, close my eyes, and feel the wind making a royal mess out of my hair, the sun beating down on my face.  It was bliss.  It was freedom.  It was my saving grace in the moments when I was trying to keep the world upright.  All rolled up in an old Jeep Renegade and a chauffeur in the form of my older brother.

I've been longing for those Jeep rides a lot here lately, like an ache deep inside.  I keep thinking of the quote from Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring, when Bilbo is talking to Gandalf in the very beginning of the story.  He says, "I am old, Gandalf. I don't look it, but I am beginning to feel it in my heart of hearts. Well-preserved indeed! Why, I feel all thin, sort of stretched, if you know what I mean: like butter that has been scraped over too much bread. That can't be right. I need a change, or something.”

That's how I've been feeling these days, feeling thin and stretched (not so much the old part), like butter that's been scraped over too much bread.  And that can't be right.  And I don't know if it's change that I need or if it's just that ambiguous something that I need.

My job is taking a toll, asking me to pay a price I'm not sure I'm willing to pay, or at the very least I'm unsure of how to pay.  It's one of those seasons when you know you are where God wants you - I know I am in the right place at my job, and I'm not looking to quit my job.  It's not that kind of toll. But dang. The burden and responsibilities sometimes feel overwhelming and clumsy and defeating. And I'm no longer able to walk away from the job at the end of the day.  I carry it with me everywhere I go.  It's turning me into someone I don't know - or like.  My capacity for life beyond work has narrowed considerably.  All of the things that used to come so effortlessly and naturally - friendships, reading, creating, writing, painting - they are all an act of discipline and willpower now.  It requires serious effort to reach out to friends in the evenings and make plans.  It takes monumental thought to sit and read a book and actually comprehend what I'm reading.  It takes a little bit of extra oomph to even think about sitting down to write a blog entry or journal entries. (You may have noticed I'm only averaging about one blog entry per month. In previous years, it was often one entry per week.)  I give my job my very best and so when I come home I find I have very little left to give.

And I hate that.  Maybe some of it I could chalk it up to age - I'm clearly no longer in college, with a dozen irons in the fire and not even breaking a sweat.  But really I chalk it up to the fact that the job is eating me alive and I haven't figured out how to bite back yet.  I know it won't always be like this.  At least I hope it won't always be like this.        

So, yeah, I'm feeling a little stretched thin these days (and I know I'm not alone in that).  And I know that can't be right.  And maybe I need change, or something.  Or maybe I really just need a long, cathartic ride in an old, yellow and red, beat-up Jeep Renegade, with my hand hanging out the window and not a care in the world.  

Even Still - Ten Years Later

I laughed somewhat in disbelief when someone told me over ten years ago, "You'll think about this summer for the rest of your life."  

I just couldn't imagine at that point in time how true those words would be. 

Because ten years later, I'm still thinking about that summer and how Jesus totally upended my world.

Ten years ago on May 26, 2005, I hopped on a plane and headed to San Diego, as part of a summer project with Campus Crusade for Christ.  I don't think I fully understood what I had signed up for that summer, although I don't know that anybody really understands what they sign up for when they say "yes" to Jesus.  

I walked into that summer feeling like a big ol' mess spiritually, a raging storm of doubt, fear and unbelief.  I was scared out of my mind, honestly.  I had a big long list of expectations, things I was waiting for God to do that summer.

I think there are some seasons of life when you expect to find yourself at the top of the mountain, and instead you find yourself at the bottom of the valley.

That summer in San Diego felt like the bottom of the valley.

I look back over the journal I have from that summer, pages and pages and pages (almost an inch thick by the time the summer was done) of wrestling out so much heavy stuff with Jesus.  Some lines written in all capital letters, as if I'm yelling at God.  Some lines scribbled so furiously I can barely read my own handwriting.  Some lines full of memories that I have no recollection of apart from the words on the page.  Some lines full of despair and sadness, frustration and fear.  Some lines full of awe and wonder over the things I saw happening in and through me.

Me, Emily and Jenna -
precious friends who
helped shape my summer

But man, that summer.  That summer is when I found out what it really looked like to say I'm all in with you, Jesus.  That summer is when I forged friendships so deep and so real and so authentic, unlike anything I had ever encountered before.  That summer is when I found sweet and total freedom in Christ.  That summer is when I saw God do things I didn't know were possible.  That summer is when I caught a glimpse of godly men who loved Jesus and treated women like gold.  That summer is when I caught a glimpse of what it looked like to no longer play the comparison game to other women surrounding me, but to discover they had their own set of insecurities and imperfections.  That summer is when I realized my faith could no longer be based on what God did or didn't do in my life, but based rather on who He is - the unchanging, unfailing God that he is.

That summer I encountered a God who is big enough, and wide enough, and wild enough, and gracious enough to still claim me.

That summer I still think about 10 years later.  And will probably spend the rest of my life thinking about.  

Emily and I, back when I had a legitimate tan and slightly blonder hair.

My beloved lime green beach cruiser that I rode everywhere that summer.  One of my regrets in life is not buying that bike at the end of the summer.

The Men of Studmuffin Row. I was crazy about these boys
and their love for Jesus.  Some of them ended up being
some of my very best friends. And they were super funny.

The Most Awkward and Desperate Folk

"There are pictures of the people in my family where we look like the most awkward and desperate folk you ever saw, poster children for the human condition. But I like that, when who we are shows. Everything is usually so masked or perfumed or disguised in the world, and it's so touching when you get to see something real and human. I think that's why most of us stay close to our families, no matter how neurotic the members, how deeply annoying or dull - because when people have seen you at your worst, you don't have to put on the mask as much." - Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies

I dearly love Anne Lamott's book Traveling Mercies. Full of such richness and completely irreverent hilarity. I laughed out loud on more than one occasion. But I remember when I read the above quote from the book, years ago. There is one particular family photo that immediately popped into my mind. We are all piled on my parents' porch - aunts, uncles, parents, cousins, grandparents, grandbabies - everybody piled up, standing next to one another, hanging over the railing. Kids are screaming. The dog is distracted. Somebody looks less than thrilled to be there. Parents are smiling through gritted teeth. A few bachelor uncles are clearly humoring the rest of the family by engaging in this family photo. The grandparents are sitting perched front and center on a bench, looking serene as can be, as though the world is not unfolding around them.

The most awkward and desperate folk, poster children for the human condition.

And they are mine. It's why I stay close. And maybe they are all a little neurotic, but who isn't? We've seen each other at our worst, though. So, we'll fight through the awkwardness and desperation because what else do we know? And who else is there to be awkward and desperate with but our own families?

I was reminded of Anne's sentiments on family this past weekend at my cousin's wedding. I'm learning that no wedding is complete without a photo booth. I love these things.

Because sometimes we need to laugh and lean in close to the chaos next to us in the form of human flesh.

I present to you my awkward and desperate family in color. And maybe what we find in these photos is actually the truest versions of ourselves, the versions that don't care. The versions that often have our eyes closed. The versions that are often looking the other way. The versions with the quirked eyebrow. The versions that are imperfect and anything but photo-shopped. The best versions.        

My sweet grandmother, front and center, and a few of my cousins plus one uncle.
We told my grandmother we would all have props in this photo.
And then at the last second we hid all of our props, leaving her all alone. 

The same menagerie, minus my grandmother and plus my mother.

My cousin and I

My niece and I

Just the cousins

My mom, my niece and I

But Jesus

I recently started studying the book of Hebrews as part of the women's Bible study I facilitate.  I had been waffling on what to tackle next, as we had just finished up our first series and we were hanging out in a state of limbo.  I contemplated a few other options, but Hebrews kept lurking in the background and I couldn't seem to escape it. 

As I've been pouring over the pages, reading the commentaries, looking through the notes, and writing down the thoughts, it's like there is this flashing neon light that just keeps flashing IT'S.ALL.ABOUT.JESUS.  Every square inch of creation, every square inch of Scripture.  It all points to Him. 

And one of the words I have come to love in Hebrews is the simple word "but".  It packs a punch in this book.  You know how you might notice something small, but then you keep seeing it everywhere you turn?  That's how the word "but" has been for me in the book of Hebrews.  I notice it everywhere.  And almost every time it's used in Hebrews, it's usually followed closely behind by name of Jesus.  It's like the author is mounting this court case, citing all of the evidence he can gather as to why Jesus is the sum total of all that has ever existed, all we could ever hope for. 

Hebrews 1:1-2
In the past God spoke to us through the prophets, but now he speaks to us through JESUS.

Hebrews 1:8
The angels are spirits and flames of fire, but JESUS gets the kingdom and the throne, the ultimate exalted One.

Hebrews 1:10-12
The heavens and the earth will perish, but JESUS remains.

Hebrews 2:8-9
We can't see everything, but we can see JESUS.

Hebrews 3:4-6
Moses was faithful as a servant in God's house, but JESUS is faithful as a son over God's house (which is us, by the way).

Hebrews 8:1-6
The priests were mediators of a copy and a shadow, but JESUS is a better mediator of a reality.

Hebrews 9:11
The priests may have entered the Most Holy Place by the blood of goats and calves, but JESUS enters by his own blood.

Hebrews 9:25-26
The priests sacrificed every year, but JESUS sacrificed once for all time.

Hebrews 12:18-24
The Israelites came to a fiery mountain that can't be touched, but we come to JESUS.

Hebrews so blatantly and clearly proclaims:

We get Jesus.

Whatever was in the past - whatever priests, whatever angels, whatever prophets, whatever covenants, whatever leaders, whatever laws - they were good and right, and they had a place in the story.

But now we get Jesus.

He is infinitely greater, infinitely more superior, infinitely more powerful.  Nothing comes close to him.

And all of that evidence points to the ultimate truth found in Hebrews 3:3:

Jesus has been found worthy.

So, when we look at the world around us, when we see the death, destruction, brokenness, heartache - just remember:

But Jesus.   
       

My Brain is Fried

I knew I was in a trouble a couple of weeks ago when I had this overwhelming and horrifying urge to go for a run.  

I hate running.

But my job has nearly done me in here in recent weeks and a few days in particular were just sending me over the edge.  I had gobs of pent up energy and emotions and they were the kind that were demanding either a punching bag or a stiff drink.  I had neither, which is why the thought of running occurred to me.  I never did go for a run, but I think the shock of that thought occurring to me was enough of a kick in the pants to say to myself pull.it.together.  

So, in light of the fact that I have spent all of my brain power trying to recover from the previous weeks, this is one of those mindless posts that reflects the seemingly trivial moments of life because I am just plumb out of profound thoughts for the moment.  But these seemingly trivial moments have been my saving graces in the past few weeks.  

So, up first - in case you missed it, Ohio State won the national championship.  Turns out when you win a national championship, you celebrate by inviting 45,000 of your closest friends and family over to your house, hire a band, light off some fireworks and generally have a party.  I participated by showing my true spirit and freezing my toes off outside in 30-something degree weather for almost 4 hours.  This was my view from inside The 'Shoe.  Go Bucks.  

    

And this shirt.  Oh my goodness. It's my new favorite shirt.  I bought it for $8 at Aeropostale and it reflects my most-repeated phrase recently in life.  It's probably slightly out of character for me as I really am not prone to uttering this phrase very often, but I walked away from the shirt one week and regretted not buying it, just for the sake of a laugh; so, I went back another week and splurged.      

Rock climbing.  I hadn't ever tried it before, but I thought I would give it a whirl while on an outing with the women from the CATCH program.  (I know, Alex - how long have you and Jed been trying to convince me?!  I'm sorry the first time I went, I went without you!)  I made it all the way to the top and proudly sounded the alarm.  And then I was uncertain as to how to get back down.  

I think this waterfall is my new hiding place in the city.  Even when it's freezing outside.  I fully plan on going here more often when the weather is nicer.  I went here last week when I felt like escaping for awhile.  

In the wake of a particularly few disastrous days at work (at least they seemed that way at the time), I escaped to southern Ohio and visited my brother and his family down near Cincinnati.  I took my niece out to Ikea (her first visit there) and then we went to Jungle Jim's, which is this international grocery store that is a bit of a novelty in the area.  When I turned the corner and discovered they had a smashed penny machine I nearly did a happy dance.  Elvis was looking down on me with pride.    

So, when I recover from the mental onslaught that has recently occurred, I will do my best to return to our regularly scheduled programming.  It just might be awhile, though.

2014: (Belated) Year in Review

I know, we're already 5 days into the new year. This is probably a post I should have done a couple of weeks ago, but I was generally enjoying having two weeks off from work and forgetting that I had a job or any other type of adult-like responsibilities.

The end of one year and the beginning of another always brings about reflection.  Year-end reviews.  Annual reports.  Top 50 countdowns.  Top 10 countdowns.  A look back at the year. The usual lists and posts.  All of which are good and worthwhile, because it requires us to pause and take stock.

I've spent the last couple of weeks thumbing through my journals (something I love to do on a regular basis, end-of-year or not).  I wanted to see what all had happened in the course of the year, in my own words.  I give you a recap of my 2014, month-by-month, according to the things I had jotted down in my personal journals:

January: I spent this month wrestling with my past.  Thank you, www.desiringgod.org for this brilliant blog post that unlocked a host of doors for me.

February: Wrestling with my past precipitated saying yes to New Caledonia.  I was officially accepted to go on February 25.

March: I kissed make-up goodbye for 40 days of Lent.  Wow.  Did this ever turn some things around in my head about my insecurities.  I went for 40 days with not a stitch of make-up.  I realize for some women this is not a big deal, but this was significant for me and brought a whole host a freedom in the aftermath.

April: I experienced the worst physical pain of my life in this month.  I mean, really.  It was awful.  I hope to never experience it again.  And I had to put my pony down.  Double whammy.  Also don't want to experience that again.

May:  I was offered a promotion and I took it. (I am now questioning my sanity.)

June: I started volunteering with an organization called Freedom a la Cart. It's been messing with all sorts of nooks and crannies of my heart, in the best way possible.

July: I jetted my way across the globe to New Caledonia for two weeks with Jesus Film Mission Trips and I watched God work a miracle in me.       

August: I checked a whole host of things off the bucket list, including going to New Zealand, visiting Hobbiton and going horseback riding on the beach.  An early 30th birthday gift to myself.  So worth it. 

September: I moved out of my parents' house and into my own apartment.  Right thing at the right time in the right location.  (And I had vowed I would not turn 30 and still be living at home with my parents.  Nothing like making it happen a month before that deadline arrives.)

October: I turned 30.  That alone is enough.

November: This was a month spent learning to live with ambiguity and uncertainty, being patient and trusting and begging God to not send me up from here (wherever here is) unless he goes with me.

December: Waiting.  A whole lot of time spent thinking about waiting, in all areas of my life.  Louie Giglio's Advent sermon from 2013 called "Waiting Here For You" marked so many thoughts.

So, there it is - 2014.  Another year gone by yet again.

And as I look toward 2015, I recently wrote down in one of my journal entries:

"As much as I am terrified to pray it, I want whatever gets me more of You in 2015."

Check back in a year and I'll let you know if I got more of Jesus.  I'm positive the answer will be yes.

Because Jesus is always willing to give us more of Him.

Put Me In Your Pocket

She sat propped up in the wingback chair, leaning against the armrest. Her hands folded in her lap, her snow white hair tousled, her eyes growing misty. She suddenly seemed so fragile to me, seeing her wrapped up in that chair.

My sweet friend, Myrt, sat in that chair grieving the loss of her husband, Paul, of 47 years.

And as I sat next to her in their little apartment, she said through her tears, with a far off look in her eyes, “I kept telling Paul, ‘Put me in your pocket and take me with you because I don’t want to be here without you.’”

Put me in your pocket – because I don’t want to be here without you.

I was nearly a puddle on the floor.

For all the years I have known Myrt, she has always joked she wanted to die 5 minutes after Paul. She wanted enough time to make the bed, clean up the kitchen and then she wanted out of here. She also never wanted to live past 80 years. She hit her 80th birthday and by golly, she was ready to meet Jesus. That 80th birthday came and went over 18 months ago, much to her dismay.

As I sat there in her apartment, crying right alongside her, she grieving the loss of her beloved and me grieving the loss of a man I greatly admired, my heart ached deep within me.

Because what Myrt was saying to Paul was the same refrain I've been hearing over and over again in my own heart in recent weeks in my prayers to Jesus.  And what had been echoing in my heart and rolling around in my head was now being played out in reality right before me, this perfect parallel to all the thoughts I had been sorting through in recent weeks.

I was recently set up on a blind date of sorts with a guy who turned out to be pretty great. We went on a string of dates, but we both eventually came to the conclusion it just wasn't a good match. It ended gracefully and my heart is whole.  That’s not so much the point, though, as the reflection that particular has situation sparked in me. I just remember praying over and over again as I walked through that process, “Jesus, I don’t want more of this if I don’t get more of you.” And I meant it. I didn't want to go one step farther in that relationship if I didn't get more of Jesus.

I kept coming back to Exodus 33:15-16, “If your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here. How will anyone know that you are pleased with me and with your people unless you go with us? What else will distinguish me and your people from all the other people on the face of the earth?”

If your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here.

Because what is the point in going if, Immanuel, literally translated the “With Us God”, doesn't go with us?

And just like Myrt said to Paul, “I don’t want to be here if you’re not here,” I keep saying to Jesus, “I don’t want to go somewhere if you’re not there.”

It’s not worth it. If you’re not in it, if you’re not here or there or wherever with me, I don’t want to go. Put me in your pocket and take me with you. Because if your Presence doesn't go with me, don’t send me up from here. Dear God, please don’t send me up from here, wherever here might be, in whatever season of life it might be.

I’m no good without you.

Sweet Myrt will say her final goodbyes this week. And I’m sure she’ll keep repeating the refrain over in head, “Paul, I don’t want to be here without you.”

And in similar fashion, I’ll keep saying, “Jesus, I don’t want to go somewhere if you’re not there.”

The Stuff of Bucket Lists and Firearms

Me, on the range at Blackwing

Remember that bucket list I wrote about? I had always wanted to ride horses on the beach, which I was finally able to do this past summer.  But then my friend Alex noted that my list also included "learn how to shoot a gun."

I am thankful for her observation skills.  And I am thankful she is my friend.  And I'm thankful she paid for and went with me to a class Blackwing Shooting Center, one of my new favorite corners of the world.  Nothing like celebrating your 30th birthday by learning how to shoot a firearm.

Mind you, I had never shot a gun before in my life, minus a squirt gun, which clearly doesn't count.

But can I just say, I surprised even myself during the 3-hour, ladies-only course at Blackwing. I LOVED learning how to use a handgun.  I loved the intense concentration it required and I loved completely tuning the world out and focusing solely on that target just down the range.  It was a strangely liberating and empowering feeling.  After I got done, I thought, "Why the heck didn't I do this sooner in life?!"

And it turns out, I'm not too bad of a shot, if I do say so myself.

Twenty five rounds later, all 25 hit the target and a select few make it to the center of the individual targets.  (There was that random stray that hit the very bottom of the target.  I must have zoned out for a second when I fired that shot, but hey - at least it was still somewhere on the target.)

I left Blackwing thinking, "Dang, that was fun - I gotta check my calendar and figure out when I can get back up here to fire off a few more of these things!"

So, thank you to my dear friend, Alex, for helping me cross that one off the bucket list.  I have been introduced to a whole new world that I am thoroughly enjoying (in a non-disturbing way, of course, so nobody needs to be alarmed at my newly acquired fascination with shooting firearms).
        

RIP Not-So-Smart Phone And Other Technology I Should Part With

 I had a moment of silence this past week for my not-so-smart phone.  It decided to die and go to the land of cellphone heaven.  I couldn't even get it to power on anymore.  It just kept flashing the Verizon logo over and over again, almost as if it were sending out its final distress signal.  It lived a good life, being carted around to various parts of the globe.  It was maybe dropped a time or two (or three or four), but I was determined to hang on to it for as long as possible because I hate making upgrades to things like this and I hate paying for them even more.  Which probably explains why I held onto it for as long, a solid run of 4 1/2, if not 5 1/2 years.  We can chalk it up to one part practicality and two parts stubbornness.  Why buy something new when what you've got works perfectly fine (most of the time)?  I did have to activate, much to my dismay and annoyance at a higher phone bill, the smartphone I already had on hand, one I bought over two years ago when I knew I was going to be in Kenya for awhile and it was just going to be easiest to have that kind of technology while traveling, especially for international calls.  I generally go kicking and screaming when it comes to upgrades, but eventually get over it and move on with life.  You just gotta let me stomp my feet for awhile and pitch a fit and then I finally settle into my reluctance.

Note, most of the letters have vanished

There's also my dinosaur of a laptop, which is now over 11 years old.  In the land of technology, that's equivalent to forever.  I bought it the summer I graduated from high school and I've only had to replace the hard drive once.  Otherwise, it has worked like a champ.  Granted, these days it sounds like a small aircraft taking off most of the time because the fan blows quite a bit.  And it probably weighs at least 6-8 pounds, which is a tank compared to what laptops weigh these days.  And most of the letters have worn off due to my constant clacking around on it with long fingernails.  As with my phone, I am reluctant to purchase another laptop until this one officially bites the dust.  I really don't use it that often anyway these days, so why bother spending the money right now?  The IT guys at my office, lovers of all things Apple and current, frequently shake their heads at me and wonder if I was dropped on my head as a child.      

We then have my stereo.  Which I got as a gift for my 16th birthday.  That now makes it 14 years old.  Also, still working like a champ.  It even has a cassette deck as a bonus.  Don't judge.  And don't roll your eyes.  I get that I live in a world that clamors for the latest and greatest and is appalled that I have the same box TV that I had when I was in high school, but maybe this is my small way of taking a stand (albeit a lame one) and pushing back on the world. 

I am well aware of my love/hate relationship with technology and all things social media these days, the constant beeping and buzzing and chirping of machines that we have somehow allowed to rule our lives. 

I have a quote from a book I read once, on a Post-It note stuck to my mirror that says ,"How do you know have ADD or a severe case of modern life?"  I think various people think I have lost my mind when I say I don't have internet in my apartment - or TV - or microwave - or cable. But I love it.  I really, really, really relish it.  I like unplugging from the world and occasionally being unreachable.  I like falling off the map, off the grid, and out of reach. I get to slow down and literally disconnect.  I know someday I'll eventually have to make the trade and buy a few technological appliances that work, but I'm going to stick with the faithful ones I've got right now.

So, farewell, not-so-smart phone.  You were smart enough for me and that's all that mattered.        

Learning to Breathe

Learning to breathe

I'm learning to crawl

I'm finding that You and You alone can break my fall

I'm living again, awake and alive

I'm dying to breathe in these abundant skies

- Switchfoot, "Learning to Breathe"

  __________________________________

My doctor told me recently that I have been "unconsciously dysfunctional."

Thank you, doc.  And welcome to thirty, Courtney.

In all fairness, he said it with much graciousness, gentleness and compassion.  And what he was really saying was that I have been very much unaware of how my physical body does not work properly, especially when it comes to things like stability and breathing.  I continue to have troubles with my back and it's become a source of great discouragement and frustration.  He suspects that over the course of time, and probably due to my years spent riding, I picked up a few bad habits along the way when it comes to how I physically move and function.  I had been blissfully unaware of such issues.  And now I'm paying the price.

He went on to say that we need to move me from unconsciously dysfunctional to consciously dysfunctional to consciously functional to unconsciously functional.

Story of my life summed up in one single statement, the constant migration between awareness and ignorance, functionality and dysfunctionality.

One of the key things he's been emphasizing is the necessity of learning to breathe properly.  I apparently breathe a lot through my chest and the upper half of my lungs instead of really learning to breathe through my belly.  The domino effect this creates is wreaking havoc on the rest of my body.

Sometimes I wonder if my whole life I've been inhaling and exhaling all wrong, both literally and figuratively.

Because maybe here - on the eve of turning thirty - I'll finally start learning what it really looks like to breathe.