Something about this prayer thing seems to be working. Don’t know what it is, and normally hate the formality, but since yesterday my life has been amazing. Apart from a drug and alcohol fuelled woman relentlessly barraging our door at four o’clock in the morning, convinced it was another property. But these are minor details.
Was in chameleon mode at work, effortlessly and deceptively switching between multiple roles, to the extent that I’m now very confused as to my true purpose. At home, I revelled in the glorious ness of hair washing. I waited long for that moment.
After listening to Jess Glynne, embarked on a huge Hillsong United worship journey. Thinking about how sometimes Jesus speaks really dramatically, and other times whimsically, but whatever he says is never trivial. It was in Isaiah 55, “The word that goes out from my mouth will not return void.”
Integrated a period of fervent prayer into my morning exercise. It’s rarely I do this officially, but I was in dire straights. Adopted Jeremiah’s plea: “Lord, lift me from the pit.” Was calling down blessing on every aspect of my day of work that entered my brain, metaphorically on my knees, but physically in the classic tree-hugging pose.
Something happened anyway, as it’s the first Saturday I’ve ever worked without sustaining some level of stress trauma. Three people in the kitchen is the key; in all situations this is the magic number, apart from perhaps marriage, and thumb wars. Almost got ahead of myself by having two coffees on my break, but the latent fear of uncontrollable urination kept me in check.
I was therefore delighted to fill my evening with stressful recreation, such as the deceptively simple task of transferring audio files from CD to iPod. After three hours of whirring, and erasing and replacing my entire library, I met with success. Eventually surrendered and listened to Amanda Cook for an hour in worshipful bliss. My first day I’m a while where over fifty percent of stuff has worked out above average.
Had a short-lived early morning crisis, as I thought I didn’t have enough time for Chi Kung. Then realised that is woken up an hour too early. My energies remain balanced. The three-day work run began today; a fitting warmup for the brutality to follow on Saturday and Sunday. Not crawling up the walls yet, but we’ll get there.
My anointing was strong, as caught the perfect bus two seconds after leaving. Headed to the Williams’ for legendary pizza, an occasion where gluttony is not only accepted, but actively encouraged. Got off the bus early to enjoy the last bit of the leafy walk, an unprecedented move in our time-obsessed culture. Stories of fatal experiences and a high average of calories were par for the course. Highly aware of the fact I was wearing my blandest t-shirt, as I hadn’t had time to change. A shame everyone didn’t get to experience the real me. Will try and wear a particularly politically incorrect one next time.
Definitely ranking up there in my top fifty most unproductive days of all time. Notable achievements are cooking a stir fry that successfully used up excess broccoli, only for the heartbreaking discovery afterwards that there were, indeed, spring onions in the fridge. My quality of life missed out on a while percent.
Did manage to send off some important things, including a letter to the council to take back money that is rightfully ours, but without the need for green leggings and a bow. Played a MIDI keyboard for the first time in a music-playing session: I hate the phrase, “jam.” Found myself in a mini glory shower on the train back, but then realised I was tired. Classic corner has become an essential evening item. I assess how much damage the world has inflicted on me, and vice versa, while listening to wordless music that can’t judge me, or force me to feel a particular emotion.
I thought I’d amassed enough internal energy over the past few days to rival a small, nuclear power station. How misinformed I was, having been reduced to a shivering wreck by a irrational lunch rush at work. I cannot understand why such a large number of people decided to eat at such an unconventional time. But my life is full of constant surprises, with no follow-up explanation.
Massive revelations about church and Jesus’ love tonight, in the form of relentless mental rants, unbeknownst to my companions. Ok, I really understand why being in community is important, but how many carrot cakes do we need to eat before we decide to be friends? I feel sorry for people with lower metabolisms than me.
Also, we’re always approaching God’s love like it’s something to be attained. People, it is inside you, waiting to be comprehended. When you can’t sense it, that feeling is not enough to evaporate it’s reality. Listening to Dvorak’s Cello Concerto, connecting with those lovely, unspeakable emotions.
I had to go to morning prayers this morning, having unwittingly agreed to lead them: yay. With a broken piano and guitar, someone really didn’t want worship to happen, but he spirit prevailed. Then a talk about dealing with negative emotion, featuring a few obscure bible verses and half-baked theology to prop up my political agenda.
After cleaning, I said an unexpected hello to the sun, before heading to Costa again to continue my expedition into Lamentations. Normally in the Old Testament, God’s busy killing nations opposed to the Israelites, but this time there’s no racial discrimination; strange. Then the long-awaited conversation with Gethin, about psychology, intelligence, and the overarching wisdom of anime.
Double cinema time, first with Thor: Ragnarok. Please can I spend my life running around, trailblazing lightning? If the vacancy of hammer god is open, I’ll gladly take it. Hephaestus may contend that, but don’t know if I can supporting merging mythologies. Broke my year long Subway fast. Waiting for the twelve-year old buzz to return, but think it’s gone forever. Then watched The Party. Cillian Murphy has been intoxicating in every role I’ve seen.
Monday’s are the only day at the moment when I can lie in, but are also designated as my Chi Kung and Pilates, pre-breakfast killer combo. This means I go from my highest state of lethargy to intense exercise within the space of an hour. I never stop breaking limits, with breakfast and lunch merges intonation unbelievably short time. There is no limit to my time efficiency, provider I’m allowed a ten minute leeway to any appointments.
Yet again, certain piano lessons concluded with surreal, improvised prayer songs; the best kind. And then followed by the coffee trip, where I balance my aversion to chain organisations with my need to sit quietly for an indeterminate length of time. Thinking about being a real person, and dealing with problems. When God created us, he said, “His is very good.” That statement covered our potential for success, but also unlimited failure. So why do we often act as if Jesus is hampered by our difficulties, like they need to be dealt with before “progress” can be made? He’s not as squeamish as we think.
Another Sunday morning of worship practice, with the slow, repeated cycle of energy. Slowly wilting, then waking up, remembering Jesus, and having a short energy boost before flagging again. The standard piano rules applied; didn’t do anything Bach wouldn’t do, unless it’s jazz. If you’ve been looking for where the Lutheran church meets major seventh chords, I am that fulcrum.
Continued much in the same vein by shamelessly revelling in music containing any form of keys, from Jess Glynne to Miles Davis. My forecasted afternoon of zero activity and pure glory was slightly disturbed by preparing for morning prayers on Tuesday. Although I ended up blessing myself with a small biblical tour about not running away from negative emotion.
After that life admin started an insidious takeover. However, the result is I’ve never been more organised, and have music ready for lessons now, instead of a frantic scramble before sprinting from the house.
Enjoyed observing the aesthetic on the walk to work. The placement of every tree, underpass, building and pavement is very fascinating. There is a strange comfort in the predictability that when I turn a corner, the same journey lies ahead as the day before.
Work was surprisingly manageable, with only a sustainable level of kitchen madness reached. Although my meditative, outdoor break time was defiled by a guy from the café next door talking to me. The walk back was like a mystical, ritual cleansing. When it’s raining heavily, it’s really fulfilling to get drenched when it doesn’t matter. These are the extremes I live; sweat in front of a grill, drown in a deluge.
Fairly standard day at work, sauntering around like a cat. I shaved my legs yesterday to see what girls are always on about, and I feel fabulous. Although worrying in hindsight whether I should have waited for sheep shearing season to be more aligned with the natural order.
Random Holyspirit bombs dropping at a random social at church tonight, which featured sang Swedish prayer, and also a sustained level of restlessness from my direction, in constant longing of reclaiming my evening in the sake of dark reflection.
Wondering if the Father wants to know me, rather than randomly turn up in a glory shower. Was thinking about the tides and rainfall, how we can predict their patterns, but never the singular occurrence of waves, or the condensation of individual droplets. Should I treat Holyspirit’s moves likewise, and take them as they come, or consciously seek them? It will rain, but God is sovereign, and praying will make it more likely, if nothing else.