the infinite abyss

i had a divine appointment today. scheduled right from God, it seems. why he makes them so late sometimes, especially before an early sunday morning church gathering, is beyond me. but i am thankful he is in charge of my divine schedule and not me.

tonight, i got to talk with a dear friend for a couple hours--someone who i have always wanted to be closer to but never got a chance to really talk this way with-- parked in my car in front of her house. it was one of those convos where i felt like we could have talk forever and ever... it seemed like it could have just kept going. and the topics transitioned so easily into each other and kept revealing more and more and opening up all these new worlds and interesting things to explore. i would like to have seen a painting of our conversation, it would be stunning.

one subject we touched on was the idea of this abyss we all have inside of us. that there is this deep down loneliness, a black hole-like thing, that we all carry around. and we try to fill it with all sort of things-- sometimes petty things like better clothes, better technology, better belongings; sometimes bigger things that seem like they may actually fill it all the way up-- a better job, a better location, a better significant other. but the truth is that it never gets filled up, because its an abyss... an infinite abyss (garden state, anyone?)-- and those can't be filled. we talked about how at some points in our lives, we become more keenly aware of our abyss, and that sudden awareness of the abyss is often terrifying. usually the awareness comes when we slow down our lives from all the busy-ness and crazy schedules and people and things and do's. its like when we stop cluttering our lives and see them for what they are, this giant hole is revealed. and most times, we don't know what to do with it. henri nouwen talks about this in one of his books... how we need to recognize we have this abyss, that its present and does not go away and we need to learn how to navigate it. we cant let ourselves be consumed by it, but we cant ignore it either. we have to just learn to look at it, know its there and understand how not to fall in. thats a loose explanation of what he so eloquently said, but you get what i mean.


on another possibly related note, i have been watching the sky a lot more lately. every morning i drive down from scotts valley into santa cruz. usually scotts valley is gorgeous in the morning, all sunny and warm and everything is just radiant and hopeful. as i drive down into santa cruz, the skyline changes into a gray/brown/miserable foggy color, usually right at the ocean line. every morning this week, i would think to myself, "huh? i wonder which is going to win today, the fog or the sun?" because sometimes the fog sticks around all day and the sun can't seem to break through it. but somedays, usually by noon or one, the sun will break through and santa cruz becomes all glorious. tonight, coming home from my friends place, santa cruz was cloudy, but the road was clear. as i came into scotts valley, the fog was thick and closer to the ground. all along the highway were lamposts creating these brilliant triangles of fog infused light. you couldnt tell that they were even lamposts, they just looked likes lights coming out of nowhere, unattached to anything, suspended from nothing. and it was this beauitful moment- somewhere in it was a metaphor about the night and fog and the road and a source of mysterious light guiding me home.