Tired.

While I was still flying under the Christian banner, I felt like maybe it wasn't good to enjoy the world. From gorgeous moonrises to lovely objects, any of which I'd enjoy and just as soon share with anybody else so they could, too. It didn't seem to mesh with "in the world but not of it" to enjoy the world rather than live in self-denial. Despite anything that might have been thought or said, though, I still chose to enjoy the world rather than despise it, and knew that it was All Right to do so strongly enough to not worry about what anybody might say.

That part hasn't changed. The banner has. Now I'm befuddled; this world seems to be, but isn't quite. Jon put it so well in his latest entry: It's a strange thing to know that the world isn't real, yet to live in it, and love it. Yesterday, in response to some question from Peter (firm owner/team captain/older brother/recipient of my honest commentary) I said that I haven't been able to get engaged or take interest in anything lately, anything. I don't know why not. That generally the silliness and pointlessness of everything is amusing, and I don't mind playing along, but that it hasn't been, lately.

It really has been tiring.

And I'm well aware that even that is imaginary. It doesn't even seem real. Everything has been surreal. Which, naturally, makes it more difficult to engage as though it is real. But what is most real to me for the moment still resides in my imagination; while it doesn't seem wise for me to reside there, I do carry around the things that aren't-yet for comfort, like a stuffed animal. Aren't-yet but ought-to-be and thus, will-be.

And then there's the tragedy that people hurt people. It doesn't sadden me because I still just don't understand it. There's no grief; I just cannot understand. Of course these things seem like good ideas, and I can follow that much, but it's also got the shortsightedness of a child with no fuller understanding. And feeling as though any sort of violence is unlikely (at best) to really accomplish anybody's objective. Not that I am claiming to understand, or even to fully grasp the vastness of what is not understood.

Sometime in the past, Isaiah asked if I could be all right with that - however things were seeming to be, at that moment. And I couldn't, nor was I okay with not being okay with it, but I was okay with all of the preceding, as a whole. And further in the past, I was bogged by something (heaven knows what) and Shea suggested that I might just go ahead and sit in the mud, roll in it even, except that she wrote it more beautifully, the essence of which was, that it's okay to be having that sort of experience and to fully enter into it rather than trying to stay on the fringes because I think I'm not "supposed" to have those sorts of moments in life. Or at least that's what I remember now, years later. So in reading Jon's blog, where he wrote a couple of weeks ago about being lonely and then more recently about being tired, and in observing myself - for the moment utterly adrift - I can't help but think that even this is okay, and to try to accept the experience, rather than fight, even while feeling about so tentatively for the direction of the new wind.

From another perspective, I do feel as though I'm out of my groove - and perhaps I am - but wonder what, if anything, is to be done about that. It's not just a funk-induced thought. But I'd only be trying to get back to a place I've never left, only seemed to. Even a deliberate attempt to change my perspective to the one I think I ought to have, seems artificial at best: I don't want to feel or think or see a certain way just because I have decided that I ought to. Though deeply questioning what is real anyway, I'm hesitant to push anything, instead preferring to observe what happens and learn to move with whatever comes my way.