01 02 03 Eleanor Greer: mush pot. 04 05 15 16 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 31 32 33

mush pot.

Syd and I just finished watching one of those mushy romantic comedies we all live in fear of, while wrapped in quilts, drinking almond tea and spooning out pumpkin ice cream. California weather still permits us to leave all windows open, though the nights are beginning to cool off. I am currently downloading one of the songs from this lovely, horrid film and yes, here I am.

There was a game I played when I was training as a YMCA counselor. At its roots, the game resembles freeze-tag, for as soon as you are tagged you freeze, rooted to the spot, as a long-limbed octopus attempting to freeze and convert others. Eventually one person is left with nowhere to go for being surrounded by floundering octopi. This game has reached this university, but has taken on the form of emotion: love. Everyone is being rooted to the spot, engaging themselves to one another, performing in weddings etc. Has this sort of thing always been going on and have I just now received my sight? What a pickle I am in...as I told Christine today, we are so lucky to be where we are, living as we are, asking questions and figuring out answers, becoming ourselves and living in the Lord. But there is this other side, this confused, mushy, romantic comedy side, that looks at my roommates and pauses in the midst of being so lucky and breathes deeply. How can one be in two such frames of mind simultaneously? What a magnificent roller-coaster.

This is not to say that I am unhappy for on the contrary, I have never felt more excited to be living! Yet, this excitment comes with great confusion and I do not enjoy this sort of emotional confusion; it is generally good to know what one is feeling and why. This is when one must paint the gallery pink, read Jane Austen, drink vast amounts of coffee and breathe deeply still. As wisely read to me recently "Apprenticeship is always a long, secluded time, and therefore loving is for a long while, far into life-solitude, heightened and deepened aloneness for him who loves." The same writer again cries out to me "Go into yourself."
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