noun
[jen-uh-sis]
- an origin, creation, or beginning.
Removing yourself from all you know and love makes for an evocative adventure. There can be an overwhelming amount of emotions surrounding ordinary happenings. Things that were so comfortable and easy before are no longer such. Have you ever noticed how you can eat a meal mindlessly thousands and thousands of times, and then you are eating alone at a bar and you feel like everything you are doing is awkward? Why is it so hard to spread this cheese and smoked trout on the cracker? Why do I look like I haven’t eaten in years? The conversation with those around you is like work and not like it would be if you were eating with a good friend.
You become more aware of what you might have taken for granted before. You have to be proactive and effort has to be made if you want to meet people. Sometimes you might just sit and stare off into space, wondering why tears are so close to pouring out. In these times, it helps me to get outside and let the tears come as I walk. With every step, I try to imagine walking away from complacency, and walking towards the mountaintop full of hope and new experiences and a beautiful view. The tears mix with sweat as I push myself uphill. The struggle is worth the reward. The solitude and quietness make me appreciate being surrounded by people and the Pandora station full of 90’s George Straight and 70’s Eagles at the Saloon.
It’s like sleeping in a tent for a month and then being offered a warm bed; the appreciation level sky rockets. Or like going without hot coffee and then becoming gloriously caffeinated. Gratitude oozes from your very being. It’s a high that I crave. I crave constant genesis. I crave real, raw emotion. I crave loneliness so I enjoy the company when it comes. The lows can make me think, “What the hell have I done by moving to Idaho?” But the highs, oh goodness gracious, one high outweighs it all. One high at 12,731 feet, praising the Lord for His goodness, creativity, and for making me someone who loves to “Pay attention. Be amazed. Tell about it.” like Mary Oliver states. Genesis. New roommates (an incredible fella named Matt who I met at church), new experiences (a twenty-foot diving board in a spring in the middle of nowhere), new revelations about myself that make me want to be so much better. Here’s to lonely and lovely new beginnings.
those were always the moments I listened to Cary Cooper’s Hannah Hold Your Heart. Go read this one: http://walkingthroughwonderland.com/2013/03/09/solo-travel/