Wednesday, May 11, 2005

Dead Zone

Sometimes I write to say something. Sometimes I write to get something to say. Does that make sense? It does to me. It's the dead zone. When I say that I have nothing to say, what I really mean is that I'm having a life moment when no coherent thoughts are readily available. Some who have read anything I've written may wonder if I've ever had coherent thoughts. Anyway, I'm out of them.
So I'll write until one comes across this screen. It make take awhile. It may only take another sentence, or another paragraph. I know I'm not alone in this. The whole reason some people never write is that they never feel they can communicate a coherent thought. I feel that mine are sometimes divinely inspired so I guess when they're not there, it might mean that I'm not being divinely inspired. Some people express this by saying "I just don't feel God". I don't know if I ever"feel" God in that sense. Is He really there to feel anyway? I thought that faith took the place of "feeling" God. I'm not sure. I read the Psalms and it seems that David was in the dead zone on a few occasions. I guess that I'm in good company. Some people blame God at moments like these, like He abandoned them or something. I'm just thinking that anyone who He was willing to sacrifice His son for (which was everyone) would be much too valuable to leave behind like unclaimed luggage. A more likely scenario for me is that I may have wandered from Him. None of us ever intends to get lost any more than a child ever intends to go through the terror of realizing that they've become seperated from their parents in the vastness of a large department store or a mall. The reality is that we all wander while He remains constant. I once read that "sheep don't intend to get lost. In their desire for fresh grass, they just nibble their way to lostness." So it is with me I guess. A moment, a day, or a week at a time. I don't even realize it until I'm the dead zone. People lead me there. Circumstances lead me there.
My own neglect can lead me there. It's my fault in reality, because in all things I get to choose.
Anyway, I'm there and trying to write my way out. It helps me to get a check on reality; to become coherent again. It draws me closer to Him which is the only place I ever wanted to be. He never left.