Fiesole/Solitude

Last night after dinner I had gotten talking with Shandra. She wanted to know a little about why I was on this Journey, and how that came about. I told her about the several reasons I had come up with that prompted me into such an excursion beginning with the adventurous and moving into the spiritual. Throughout the conversation I began talking about my struggles to discover what kind of person I was, and my confusion about what kind of God I had been following. I explained to her that Trust had always been a difficult hurtle for me in past years, both in people and in God. I had had a really hard time allowing people into my life because I had been deeply wounded in the past. I explained to her a little about my medical history, as well as some of my formal social history, and crushing relationships that left me crippled as a functioning adult. I talked a little about my inability to forgive myself and God for the pain I'd gone through, and life I'd missed because of events that should never have happened. I wanted so badly to forgive, I even said it verbally, but truly forgiving is allowing yourself to put down the burden, and I never learned how to do that. Countless times I prayed to God to take this burden, this pain away from me. I didn't want to carry it anymore. However I never was able to let any of it go, it just stayed there, haunting my thoughts. Every second to this day the pain comes back. The burden's still there. I mentioned that I didn't really know what forgiveness (true forgiveness) is supposed to feel like. It's not like you ever forget something traumatic like that, I don't think you're supposed to. So I suppose the pain never really goes away. So then what is forgiveness? It's not all right what they've done to me, but I accept their apologies, and I wish no evil on them. But I feel burdened by it always. Part of this trip, I told her, is to figure out how to forgive.
Grieving
In the morning I showered and walked out to the breakfast table. Shandra had gone off to work, but she left me a key to the house and two books sitting on the table. One was "Disappointment with God" by Philip Yancey, and the other was a guide to Grieving. I picked up "Disappointment with God" and headed out the door. I decided I'd walk my way up to a beautiful hiking trail Shandra mentioned was not far from here which was in the forest that Leonardo DaVinci often walked and found inspiration for some of his greatest works. A little ways down the path I rested on a rock overlooking the city of Florence, and began reading the book. I read the book cover to cover, and sat in solitude and prayer for the next 8 hours. Every so often I'd walk a ways down the path, often straying off into the forest. When it grew colder, I huddled into a cave I found cut into a quarry where the Romans drew the stones that built most of Florence. The book had changed some of my ideas about many things I'd thought about God. It told of a God who when you suffered, suffered with you rather than waiting for you to learn something. The main question the book dealt with was why, if God is so good, do terrible things happen? My preconception of that question was that God creates these situations to teach something to you, or someone watching you (one of my most haunting fears stems from a joke inspirational poster with a picture of a shipwreck that reads "What if the sole purpose of your existence is to serve only as a warning to others"). That ultimately the higher good would be gained by your suffering. However, this book brought to light a different perspective, and talked of God as not one who causes bad things to happen. Tragedy happens as a result of life. Life isn't fair, and God isn't life, but something entirely separate. God grieves for you like a mother grieves for her child when something terrible befalls them. I feel like God has grieved for me many times in my life.

Walking through the forests of Tuscany, I really felt God there with me, and I realize I've said something to that same effect throughout this whole journey, and I shutter now to use the phrase again, but I really don't know how else to explain it. Throughout my life there's been a distance I've felt that impaled through me, like a steel pole. I felt cold inside, and hollow, and but for short occasions here and there I was mostly unsatisfied. I hated being alone, but I hated being around people even more. I felt myself becoming bitter and cynical, and it scared me. I very seldom cried, I barely ever could. I felt alone, and handicapped.

The first time on this trip that I felt tears, seemed like the first time in forever. I stood at the crucifixion site in Jerusalem on good friday, and I've never weeped like that before in my life. Ever since that time I've felt like God has been walking right next to me, like I could touch him at any moment. It's the only reason why I could sit in absolute solitude today for 8 hours just praying, and reading, and thinking. Back home that would have about killed me. Here however, I could have sat there all day and night. It was like I had the creator of the universe as company. That, I believe, is nothing short of a miracle. As for who I am, I'm still working that out.

In town as I was walking around the Duomo, I saw a man, probably in his mid 40s, who had slicked back hair, and black shades. He looked rich and powerful. He had on an expensive leather jacket, and he stood there with a group of parents of a tour group of young school kids taking a class photo in front of the elaborately painted doors of the Duomo. I wanted to have what that guy had. I greatly regret it, but I would be remiss if I said I didn't desire wealth, and power. Is that wrong of me? Doesn't everyone if he's honest with himself desire that at least somewhat? I wanted the slicked backed hair and shades, with his looks and charisma. I've never thought myself to be ugly, but I've also never been someone who walks into a room and immediately attracts female attention. As far as charisma, I'm very seldom the life of the party, however I'm not one who's never invited. Usually I get in a witty comment or two and then fade into the background. I'm not overly intelligent, however I'm not by any means dumb either. My attributes have often seemed to place me at average in my self-analysis, and that has never sat well with me. I'd like to me more so than the average man. I want to walk into a room an hear women swoon. I want to keep a conversation about interesting topics. I want to be known. Everyone wants to be famous. I know that much is true, and as of recently in the U.S. Because of shows like American Idol people are succeeding. That's really always been a lot of my problem with that show and others like it. When everyone's famous, suddenly no one is. I honestly, don't care if I "get famous" in the general Hollywood sense. I'd rather be known for something more lasting. What can you say you've accomplished in this world if no one remembers you 100 years from now? I've always struggled with that. That's a lot of pressure to do something monumental, and so few people ever reach that point. I guess the main point is that I'd like to just wake up one day to find I'm a whole different person. Sort of like a fresh start. That's not something I expect to happen during this adventure, but it's a nice thought. What I do need to do is find out what makes me, me. I want to know the things I need to know to become a man I can be proud to look at in a mirror. That might be as valuable as becoming a different person.

These are all things that get contemplated sitting in a cave in a Tuscan forest. When I got back, I had dinner with Sean and Shandra and the kids, and after dinner I taught the youngest some techniques on the drums. He's really very good for his age. He'll be a pro drummer in no time.
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