UNWRITTEN.

things never go quite the way we plan them, somehow. when we’re younger we have great ideas of the people we’ll be and the lives we’ll change. and in our minds we envision a  fairly straightforward path to presumed happiness. truth is, one doesn’t even need to look back a year to see the fallacy of that statement. i can look back a day, a couple of hours to know that when proverbs 19:21 says “Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the LORD’s purpose that prevails.” that’s more often than not, exactly what transpires.

the trouble is, despite our realisation, painful as it often proves to be, that there is rarely a direction our lives will take that we can perfectly predict, we frequently live in stubborn denial.

having rambled this far, this entry is now proof of my point, exactly. i began it because of a purely mundane, if highly frustrating, reason. somehow i made it a philosophical argument my mind cannot sustain at this time in the morning.

whatever the state of my so-called intellectual mind, at this point, i am certain i’m on a steep learning curve of this sometimes elusive “trust in God”. at the end of the day, though, the fundamental lesson in trust is possibly just that for all the leaping we can do, He has always proven to be able, and willing, to catch us from however high up we jump.

things always work out, somehow.

and we get through things, and past them. and for all our bumbling, the world hasn’t fallen apart yet. not because of anything we can do, for if the earth rested squarely on our shoulders there would be nothing left of either it or us. thank God He’s got the world, in its entirety and imperfections, safely within the palm of His hand.

other times i wish i had enough of them to piece together the fear of shattering comfortable silences, paradoxically, by articulating them. but there is no way i could sufficiently ever be able to express this. and this is always open to interpretation because this is always only ever that to someone else. so we live comfortably in the paradoxes of existence and hope that at some point we can string it all together to make something tangible, maybe. but then the moment something is made tangible, it dies, stuck in a moment of time it can no longer trans. cend. i’m beginning to write a poem, interspersed with photographs of the life i know i could never have but which friends from distant fragments of my life do. i don’t resent the fact they do, i am, if anything, bemused by the trappings they’ve found themselves encased in.

these associations, they ground us, they give us a sense of who we are, or at least, who we ought or might be. but who’s to say there aren’t moments when we cut the ties just to feel the illusory wind in our hair and the liberty we claim as our own. however transient those moments, they remind us of the sheer limitlessness of possibilities never that far beyond our grasp that we could not, one day, obtain happiness.

but happiness is, at the same time, the very things that hold us to the ground, that give us certainty to fall back on. happiness is the final admission that nothing good comes from our own feeble attempts at finding this happiness. i know, i believe, that my greatest happiness, is that which is found in You. for all my circumvention and the gentle lull of to-ing and fro-ing, this is where i’m safest, this is where i know i ought to be.