I received my diploma last night, effectively encapsulating those years of my life within a blue, pleather, flippy-book thing. I will admit, I was excited to get it, though I often tell myself that formalities in life hold little value. Nevertheless, in lieu of much of life's general sense of informality, maybe a piece of paper with my name written in gothic font is a little more than just fine. Maybe its pretty cool.

Where I go from now is the result of a communal effort, not just my own dedication. Even now, I tend to think that I am just living my own life, in my own little world. But there are those around me whose lives and mine are daily intersecting. I read the news and am tempted to keep what is happening on the global front as just that, a different front.

An earthquake shook Haiti. I didn't feel anything. Not even a tremor.

460 people were killed in Chicago in 2009. I didn't hear a single gunshot.

J.D. Salinger died last night. Oh well, I just finished Catcher in the Rye last week. I can read his stuff without him.

But these events are not divorced from who I am. As Thomas Merton once wrote and I echo, "I have the immense joy of being man, a member of a race in which God himself became incarnate." I believe a harmony exists between my heart breaking for the brokenness of mankind and taking action. This would all be a lot easier if I just had hard rules to follow, issues of which I would take a stand always, consistently, no matter what. With so much need in the world, should I always give at least a dollar?

There has to be more beauty that the Holy Spirit offers than to try and salve the world's wounds with a donation here and a donation there. I want to listen closely and feel where my heart, that I pray is always seeking compassion, is urging me to extend myself more than usual and to give generously of what I have been given. But always, I desire to honor the Incarnation and consider all human life worthy of my time, thoughts, and emotions. Otherwise, I am denying the fact that my life is a fabric woven with those who considered me worthy their time, thoughts, and emotions. No man is an island. Neither am I.

Winter

Chicago freezes over tonight. An interesting mixture of rain and ice has covered everything, ensuring tomorrow's commute to be exponentially more exciting for most. The mild weather over the past few days made me think that winter might be headed for the door and spring might come early. I didn't bother to check on the date of Groundhog day, but I think they say winter sticks around for at least six weeks after. Nevertheless, tonight confirms that winter is here to stay as long as she so desires, not to be pushed around or intimidated by anyone.

Though I find this time of year to be most laborsome in terms of mental clarity and all around motivation, I am coming to be grateful for the fact that seasons do exist. There is a particular anticipation that is built up during these short days, one that consists of miniature letdowns. I know that spring is equated with late March and April onward. But, some part of me hopes that this year will be the exception. I guess the absence of a planetary realignment shouldn't really disappoint me.

A sleep of sorts is put over nature right now. The sun opens up every so often as if to remind us that the created order is fully aware of what is happening...rebuilding, renewing, refreshing. The snow and ice slows us down, helping us remember that life does not bloom at our beck and call. And when those days come where the clouds part for a number of hours, and the sun cracks its eye to see how we are doing, I want to soak it up and be thankful that life continues to flow within me.

Something unique happens when, in the midst of dreariness, a portion of happiness shines through. The good in life tastes a little richer, or so it seems to me. I caught the eyes of a homeless woman the other day while she bestowed God's blessing upon me, the first eyes of a stranger I have bothered to look for in quite some time. Maybe it was that no cloud existed in the cold sky, but her eyes spoke brightly. And it is those moments that help me appreciate winter. I also saw my first bowl-cut in 5 years on a junior higher the other weekend, and that helped me appreciate winter too.

But seriously, I have a warm place to sit now while the sleet comes down and for that, and for many other things during this season, I give thanks. It is more than I was ever promised.

My recent days post-college have been wonderfully uneventful. Maybe a better way of putting it would be that no grandiose plans for my life have been pounding me in the back of my head, urging me to not to waste time. The fact of the matter is, the last four years of my life just blew by me. I don't live in my own room on the second floor of a big brick house in a quiet, small-town neighborhood. I now share a one bedroom apartment above an Irish pub in a gentrified, middle-class, northern neighborhood of the third largest city in America.

I do not have papers to write or chapel to attend. I serve schnitzels and beer a couple of times per week and then go to a Presbyterian church on Sundays, often followed by brunch with my girlfriend. My routine no longer includes lectures and dorm life, rather mandolin lessons and swagbucks. Oh yeah, I also do crossword puzzles now as well.

I have an entire future ahead of me. Yet, I am not sure if my future includes years or days. It wouldn't be particularly glorious to keel over at this point, at least thinking of my global impact. I have accomplished a degree, but what else? Nevertheless, the opportunity to spend five or more days alone in the last week and a half have brought me peace, not anxiety, gratefully. I am learning to value the day-to-day. I know there will be mile markers, but if I look for those only, I will miss the small things that give the big things their potency.

I just pray for the ability to move and the drive to value movement. And with the opportunity to do whatever I want right now, I'd like to start doing those little things I always thought might be fun, and be thankful if I am actually granted the means to do so. Otherwise, I'm sure there are details hidden in what I have come to see as familiar that will continually remind me that there is always something to further explore.