On a gloomy Sunday morning I begrudgingly rolled out of bed and headed out into the fog to self-reflect. Clad in an unfortunate ensemble of the only clothes I'd thought to pack (pom-pom hat, relic-of-the-nineties windbreaker, sweatpants, and aqua-socks included) I was grateful that the island was nearly deserted. Having spent the past six months avoiding the big "what comes next" question like the plague, this was admittedly not an ideal assignment for me. However, in the best interest of my grade I bundled up and resolved to think about some stuff. On my walk, in addition to some deep contemplation of personal issues (I'll get back to those), I found myself marveling at the scenery around me. Not particularly spectacular or aesthetically pleasing, especially in dense fog, but refreshing in a bracing and chilly sort of way. This is the location of so many fond childhood memories: countless icy swims, clam digs, bonfires, camp-outs, and canoe rides. Now I'm trudging along the same shore with eighteen years of memories in my heart pondering my future endeavors and innermost thoughts. It is a wonderfully calming feeling to know that I have always had and always will have a place of sanctuary and seclusion especially in this season of great change and uncertainty.
*WARNING: the rest of this has absolutely nothing to do with the accompanying pictures*
I also thought about myself a great deal. I thought about all the things that dominate my life, that I obsess over: my attitude, my intelligence, my physical flaws, my emotional shortcomings, the way I view others, and how I am perceived. Some of which I have control over, others I don't. Any sort of introspective activity usually sends me into a downward spiral of negative and self-deprecating thinking, so I shifted my focus in a bit of a preemptive strike.
Then, because this assignment is inherently spiritual, I reflected on my rather non-existent walk with Christ. I took a good look at the overall skepticism and indifference that influence my perspective of religious activity and spirituality and how little I am bothered my lack of faith and interest.
And then I thought about how content I am with all of that. I think I've finally reached that place in life where I realize that I am always going to have stuff to work on. I'm never going to be perfectly happy all the time and my life will never go exactly the way I want it to, but whose does? I'll always have problems and doubts and anxiety and baggage and insecurities. Who I am right now is imperfect and impulsive. I'm terrified and excited for my future at the same time and that's okay. I don't have to pick just one emotion to feel about this whole growing up business because, after all, complex people are the most interesting.
