An Outlet

Well, here I sit. It's August 5th. Melissa is in Mexico on a missions trip, which means I'm alone for a week for the first time in the year we've been married.

I find myself feeling a little reflective. My refuge thus far in my week has been everything I felt a connection with before getting married: Emily Dickinson, Joanna Newsom, Elliott Smith, and a hundred other poems, songs, and artists. But there's this huge gap between where my brain connects with my heart. I can't seem to get back to that place I was back when I was single.

I guess I really am a different person.

I've drifted more and more down to earth in what art (in any form) to which I feel connected. Suddenly lyrics by The Mountain Goats feel more profound than they used to. Earthy. Real. I can't place it.

I've been thrown into real life, and there are very few five-dollar words or lofty treatments of truth and beauty.

"I've stopped looking for royal cities in the air," to borrow a phrase from Josh Ritter.

"I'd ask you about love. You'd probably quote me a sonnet." I've always loved Good Will Hunting, but mainly from the side of a Will-wannabe who tried to understand Sean as best as he could. I spent hours reading and digesting all sorts of knowledge, after some holy grail of what I wanted my life to be like.

And especially what I wanted love to be like. Romeo and Juliet, Amélie, even The House of Flying Daggers (especially that part where he picks up the flowers on the horse). Not realizing the whole time that Sam and Melissa would be every bit as brilliant, every bit as colorful, every bit as creative as any of those stories.

God creates better stories than we do.

I've learned that lofty words don't really mean much. God has given me something that I cannot define -- it defines me. True love, the kind that makes me want to do anything for Melissa at any time, no matter what I think of it. The kind that pushes me and pushes me again to be sacrificial, and any time I want to give up, I find myself once again being pushed.

That kind of love can't really be described. It can't really be put into words. It makes every song or book I've heard or read seem trite or overly simplistic or too idealistic (or too morbid or cynical, for that matter). The pain and the joy that comes with marriage, with one reinforcing the other, can only be experienced.

I recently came across some songs I had recorded a couple of years ago. Well meaning songs, with heartfelt lyrics reflecting real pain. I couldn't help but smile at some and laugh out loud at others. I was so worried about things, and so convinced that so many other girls were perfect for me.

And I was so damn cynical.

Well, that's enough for now. Let me know your thoughts.

Oh, and if anyone wants to hang out this week, give me a call (or an Fbook post). I'm available after 5 any day, and all day Saturday.