....and how ninety degrees is a lie
My dad has this saying that he finds pretty funny but I'm fairly certain it contains layers of truth. People (who party) don't stop partying. They just get tired.
I was talking to an old friend recently. We were reminiscing about our "old times;" the parties, the bars, the crowds, the prayers, the booze, the worship, the friendships, the boys, the girls and the energy. All that energy given to exploring ourselves while we were young. We discovered a lot and despite teetering on the edge here and there, we all survived. Somehow. And live to see another day. And tell another story.
But how different is that story, really?
Don't get me wrong, people make different decisions either based on circumstance, religion, reputation, obligation or just pure exhaustion. But if at the depth of our core we are all uniquely bent in certain ways, where does the deep go? Do we trick ourselves into deep's disappearance? Or will what was always there inevitable come out, simply transformed into something more palatable?
I've noticed that all kinds of people, even "the redeemed," try really hard to hide the deep. We force its energy elsewhere and give them face-lifts. We find new ways to get attention and more mature words to express our tantrums. We drink wine instead of shots of tequila; we obsessively rub our kids with coconut oil instead of doing lines of cocaine. We watch porn instead of having affairs; we write blogs instead of going to clubs. We join church groups, the PTA, play softball or take cooking classes to distract us from what lies, just beneath the surface. But the deep is still there. With layers and layers of light piled high on top.
Is this change?
Or is this how we choke on change, harnessed by the demeaning way in which it condemns us for everything we were and the shades of deep we wish we could still be.
I'm reminded of a different conversation I had recently on a Sunday morning. We called it our church and drank a lot of Bloody Mary's and 60 minute IPAs. We talked about evangelicalism and its detrimental view of humanity - that even our best is His worst, being primarily taught the evil of our brokenness. How fundamentally worthless we are in our own right.
I have a different theological view on that, being made in His image and all. But that's for another day. This is really about being human. Christian or Muslim or Agnostic. We're all just, trying. We want to be better. We are moving in small degrees, evolving into the most beautiful version of ourselves. But the process is brutal and isn't graciously done if its mixed with impossible expectations. (Trust me, I know. I grew up Baptist.)
I guess I just don't want to be lied to anymore. And I don't want to ignore reality. My deep is there, despite all of my "changing." Palpable and dark and alluring and full of wonder and poison - shades of shame, intoxicated intelligence - creative expressions that will not be locked away without keys. All any of us can do is be who we are, a few degrees away from wherever we started.
Ninety degrees is a lie. Maybe we're just tired
(and then we get our second wind!?)
