Today I went downtown to get my car re-registered. It was a chore that had been left terribly undone. It was nice. I walked around downtown by myself towards the court house with great resolve. I was dressed in a cute outfit and had my purse around my waist. I had woken up not much long before and had thrown my hair up in a haphazard bun. I felt very happy very independent. I was one of the few times that I had been down there myself. The other time was went I was hunting for solace, September 6, 2009, among the buildings of the downtown skyline. I parked on Georgia St. It was raining, a grey Seattle day. I felt completely alone. I think that I was looking for a spiritual experience, anything to tell me that it was going to be okay. I had in mind to go to the Catholic church near Georgia, but I chickened out, not knowing their service, their customs. Today was different. I felt and feel like a new person.
I started home only to find the freeway packed. Plan B. I wanted an excuse to ramble to have an adventure. I've been reading this book I keep referring to by Don Miller and the whole book is about telling your story. How to make your life an everyday adventure. To concentrate on the things that make everyday a good and substantial day in the movie of your life. Everyday is adventure and that make everyday amazing. Not impulsive but spontaneous. Living your character that makes no excuses and chooses its path.
I took McCallie through to the tunnel and waited. I drove the road until I saw the street. Belvoir. I wait and pine for Belvoir because as soon as I turn the corner there is an magnificent Episcopal church on the corner that has a courtyard that looks like its out of medieval times. I go by it just to get a glimpse of inspiration and awe. I don't know why something so simple can give so much joy, but I imagine myself in courtyard and how much better that makes the church. How the courtyard inspires the congregation to be true and beautiful Christians.. how it promotes love. Then I allow my reality factor to kick in, my grass is greener side to know that it is filled with just as many faithful and just as many bigots as any other non-courtyarded church might even though those churches lack the inspiration.
Then on Belvoir I come across the Baptist "cool" church, who's commercial fixings make it an attraction to young people, with its praise band and expresso stand.. and I think, how commercially relevant of them to employ capitalism in a sacred space. I imagine Jesus turning over the expresso stand table. haha. Well, I'm not to judge, but it seems a little bit fake.
After passing this attraction I crossed the freeway again and noted it was still stuffed to the brim with patrons of the U.S. government's transportation system. Nope. Not going there. Instead I proceeded to get lost in back roads. I didn't know where I was going or where they would lead me. I didn't know anything but the vague direction that I want to go, but I was going to make my day more than wasted, more than the mundane, even if I was the only conspirator. My journeys took me to all levels of society and all types of geography. This is what I am going to miss most about the South. It is distinctly southern. I'm going to miss the random chicken joints and the Saturday night live boxing taverns and the people that are the epitome of "Americans". We as an artsy fartsy community look down our noses at them for being closed-minded and too much of Jesus lovers and such, while we squander our lives by being at the next "it" event and dance to the next half-talented DJ just because he is the most culturally relevant thing in town. But one thing I definitely respect in those people is they are just themselves. I think that when we try to be so cultured and so hip we sometimes loose sight of if that is really who we are. We fear them and gripe about them maybe because they really have life figured out. Simple it may be, but sometimes I think we like to make life complicated because we can't just be satisfied with real life. We can't get excited about a simpler story so we have to mess it up.
Eventually I got home. I went to Georgia and back in the process. I like it. I like the perspective of being satisfied with where the road goes. It was a lot less stressful than sitting in traffic with all the rest. And going the way I did probably used the same amount of gas and time, but it was so much funner, so much happier to ramble. Hey! maybe that is a metaphor. I think that sometimes people feel that the road more traveled is easier. Its easy because its been trodden, you know it, the evils are familiar, and it may be true that but taking the rambling road you take the same amount of time, but maybe you find it really isn't that much more work.. and maybe the things you fear about it are really the things that can bring you greater joy.
