I'm getting restless.
I'm grateful to be here, I really am. L'Abri life has sort of hit the peak, the major valley, and has no plateaued out with occasional bumps and blurps, but, overall, it feels a bit steady.
And it's in this steadiness that my mind starts to wander...
I'm starting to call out goals and dreams, trying to make them concrete in my mind, developing them in hopes that they'll soon be reality.
They could be reality.
I don't even know if there's a value to these dreams. Crazy thing is they keep sort of comin' true.
Crazy day dreams aren't supposed to come true.
I'm trying to think of what sort of L'Abri update to hand over.
Last Wednesday was Emily's birthday. It was a sweet day with remembering... and I managed to accidentally delete most of the pictures of that day and the week or preceding it.
I still have some of them from supper, though. I cooked up dinner and we packed it all up in Tobbit to take the the Outlook. Dinner was supposed to be a mung bean curry but, in the middle of burning my hand, I forgot to add the coconut milk. I didn't realize till we got there so it tasted pretty horrendous. Luckily, we also had packed some of Monday's dinner, also a curry (so much curry at L'Abri!) which was quite edible.
The moment was much needed by the group, I think.
We sat there.
Everyone turned pink as the sun went down and that was something I could celebrate.
There's something really humbling (and sort of invasive) about being around people all the time - and specifically, being around people who have little choice but to be around you. I'm not sure that I like it. For me, I especially experience a feeling of connection when I know someone has gone out of there way to be with me. This doesn't really happen here. It tends to be convenience.
There's one human here that I'm specifically thinking about as I write, though.
In the past week, there have been many cases of us going out of our way to be with... no, that's not right. We both keep on being in moods where we just don't want to be with other people. L'Abri is people. All the time. People when you eat. People when you sleep. People when you want to drink water. For some reason that makes me feel secure, we both don't mind the company of the other, even when being around other humans feels a bit violent.
The other night we grabbed some beer and a pack of cloves and headed to the cud-de-sac. Together we drank, smoked, and lay on the cold concrete and exchange stories, the entire time, waiting for a shoot star. We saw two that night. In that moment I felt rooted. I felt secure. I felt connected. I came back home to L'Abri feeling a slight feeling of settled-ness.
But it's amazing at how fast that feeling can be ripped away.
That's what worries me, sometimes. How quickly I can go from a plateau, steady feeling of calmness to feeling like my boat just got tipped over. I don't want my boat to flip. I want to go steady down the river, anchoring for a night and then, in the morning, waking up to find myself right where I was when I fell asleep. Sometimes it feels like I wake up in a new place each day.
I'm grateful, though. I'm grateful for sunrises like the one we had last Wednesday night and I'm grateful to be immersed in a community of folks who like to ask questions.
Is it worth feeling settled here if I know that it's all going to be just thrown away in just a few weeks? Is it worth caring? Is it worth working things out? Maybe I should just keep my head down, press onward with hints of apathy, and try and keep my feet on the ground.
Yesterday, after tea, I took a nap in the rain in a hammock in the trees.
Then I woke up and wandered over to Tobbit and took another nap.
Then I ate food and took another nap on the couch.