It’s windy today.

I feel a breeze blowing from somewhere within. It’s skittering tangled threads of voices along the sidewalk in my imagination… “God is faithful (what does that mean?),â€? “It’s not your fault,â€? “Mail that old letter.â€? Completely disconnected, yet there is something or someone vying for my attention. Talk to me. I hear that voice clearly. Let me talk to you. Will you stop and listen? Maybe later… there’s too much to do…

How’s life? Life is busy. Life is constant. What’s new? Nothing. Everything. How are things? Just fine. Everything is just fine, thanks. All these questions that we ask each other. What are we trying to get at? What do we want to know, to hear, to experience from/with each other? Connection. Connectedness. Non-solitary existence. We want witnesses to our lives, witnesses who actually care. This morning I picked up the phone and called some friends. I wanted to know what had been going on in their lives and to share some of my experiences with them. To stay connected. Question: If we disconnect from people, do we cease to live? If we disconnect from the Source of life is there any life to be had at all? That breeze feels a little stronger now… I think the wind is picking up.

What is life? Existence. The period between birth and death. The feeling I have when I burst to the surface after holding my breath under water as I count to a million. The sensation on my tongue as frozen semi-sweet chocolate divinely melts into a delectable lump. I live and my heart beats and my lungs search for air every 2.3 seconds. How can I live more? I don’t think my heart is longing to beat faster or that I need to squeeze in more breaths per second or stuff myself with chocolate. And yet, there is a deliciously tingly feeling about having your pulse quicken and your blood speed up when a potentially perilous offer is put in front of you. I know of someone who said that life could be lived or given in abundance — what a crazy statement! But I feel this to be true when I ride a roller coaster, or stand up in the back of a jeep while off-roading, or through action realize my depth of love for someone, or look into a pair of eyes that moments before were filled with pain, but my gift to them brought joy and salvation. *my heart jumped at that last image.* I think that whatever abundant life is, it’s got to be found somewhere between the edge of a cliff, the rapids of a swelling river, and filling the belly of a hungry soul. Woa, my hair just lifted a little. Someone should open that window a little wider and let the wind blow; it might clean up some of those cobwebs in the corners that I can’t reach.

How is it that we get so lost in ourselves? How do I get so lost in myself? My little world of pain and joy and stagnation and movement really doesn’t mean much unless it’s connected to the bigger ocean full of global currents and wind and teeming life. I want my ship to sail as a part of the World Naval Fleet, not just the local boat club that meets in the harbor. The open ocean freaks me out (I hope my life vest holds out!), but there’s nothing like it on land. You should come try it too; give your sea legs a chance. What are you waiting for?

“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore…â€?

I’m ready to talk now.

Did you hear that?