Today, I am Here.

I have been challenged lately to consider the fragments of time here on the river that picked up the frail pieces of my finals-drained, city-consumed, winter-tired bones when I first arrived in May; this restored rhythm of life that has breathed so intuitively into the core of who I am and energized my passion for pilgrimage and my dreams for the future. To conquer the looming dread of Chicago traffic & humidity & tourists that inevitably resound as the city's heartbeat of summer is going to be a consciously intentioned effort in my last few days here. As much as I am in love with the ever-accessible city life, perhaps my days are numbered in the fast-paced grind of Chicago.

How many other places will I ever live where I can kayak off my front porch?!

Too often I live without bringing attention to what actually brings life to the deepest part of me. I know what people tell me, the world; promises to turn my eyes to this or that and receive the satisfaction from which I should draw life. I float through my days with my attention turned, and wonder why I come to a breaking point; burnt out from a month's reckless run and drained from the constant inner chatter telling me who I should be more or less of - what to fix and make better. But that's not how I want to live, listening to the cries of others who seize my grip from what I know to be Me, as silly or intrusive or perhaps even unruly as I sometimes am. To live with intentionality means knowing what makes you tick and allowing more of those moments to be ushered into the day-to-day and consciously not building walls against the unavoidable insecurities, vulnerabilities, unknowns, frustrations, and confusions.

Filling my weekends with adventures.
Punchbowl Falls :: Columbia Gorge, OR

Haystack Rock :: Cannon Beach, OR

Here, life is full because I have stepped back, re-examined, and taken note. My life, free from responsibilities to adhere to any established pattern of another's living has allowed a rhythm to develop that works for me - creating space between work and play - the morning hush and the evening stars renewing wonder as a foreign silence invites me to rest my worries. Here, space and stillness are the hallmark of my days, the go-to, the natural. I don't have to seek it out, it is already calling to me, wrapping itself around me in morning coffees, afternoon reads, and evening strolls. Is it any question why I will miss it?!

Night silence.

So what do I do when I return to the buzz of Chicago, the far-removed city from this refuge along the pines? How do I create a sense of stillness, a quietness for God to speak? How do I live in the ways that I know bring life to who I am in a city that beats its fists against apartment doors, demanding me to come out and face the fight?

A dear gift from my closest friends before I left.
The friends that indeed make my heart hurt for Chicago...

I have no answers. Today, I am here.