This summer is shaping up to be something vastly different than I had envisioned.
Some sculptors can look at a piece of clay and see the finished work even before they lay a hand on it. Others spend days, weeks, months looking for inspiration before they ever began chipping away. Even still some sculptors, dive right into the clay molding and shaping it with no certain direction in mind. They feel the clay. They let it speak to them as their fingers press further in and smooth it out. Yet, it is never a completely blind journey. Along the way, they discern what feels right to them or where they have made a wrong movement. They shape and reshape until it feels right. Before they know it, they have created a work of art.
I have never looked at my life and had clarity about what it should be. I have had pockets of inspiration and moments of great passion about something or some idea. But, I have yet to begin to conceive of the finished product.
I have however, spent days, weeks, months, years even trying to "figure it out." Sometimes I wonder if I have planned the better part of my youth away. Especially when I look back over my life and wonder if I have really lived it at all.
What do I have to show for it? Do I buy the script that I have followed?
Lately, I have taken the way of the free spirited sculptor. I have tired of the planning and decided to dive in, for better or for worse. Even in this short amount of time, I have had some moments of great brilliance and some missteps, but the past month has been more invigorating than the past few years. I am in revolt. Revolt against how my life should be.
My aim: to reclaim what is left of my youth.
But, I dare not do this alone. Despite the questionable status of my spiritual beliefs these days, I can never deny the power of God. I know that God guides me in the way that I should go and challenges me to be a better person. I am just not certain that what I previously thought that looked like is actually what it is. I am certain that there is something bigger than this flesh and bone that sees a bigger picture that eludes me. Even the sculptor has a muse (identified or not) that guides her along the way. That muse keeps her going when her hands grow weary and her fingers began to cramp. He keeps her inspired and energized to see it through. So it is with me and God.
Someone once said to me something to the effect of "be careful not to narrowly define yourself." While, I am not sure of that person's motives at the time of sharing that statement, it has stuck with me. I have done just that for a long time. In fact, I have so narrowed the definition that I no longer know who I am any more. Now I am out to rediscover who I am. Remolding and allowing myself to give in to the ebb and flow of life and hoping for a masterpiece.
