Random Shirts

Day 1 – All things new

At sunrise, I was able to look around and survey the damage.

Not bad. Not bad at all.

In the dark, I had managed to pick a pretty good campsite. It was secluded, near the water, and close to a “boat ramp” that is just a bulldozed path down to the water.

I knew there was at least one other person camping here, because I could hear their generator running in the distance. As I took a walk around, though, I found that this campground was divided into four different areas, each a few hundred yards apart. I was in the first area, farthest north. It turns out that my area was completely deserted, except for my small tent. Sweet.

I appreciated this even more, though, when I walked to the other areas. I tracked down generator man in the second area, which was on the other side of a small inlet of the lake. I was surprised to find that it was not just one generator, but that there were nearly a dozen different RVs and travel trailers, several of them with their own little portable generators under makeshift canvas tents. Similar scenes greet me at the other areas. Somehow, everyone had decided to leave me my own private peninsula on the lake.

Thanks, God.

I decided to start my time here by reading some from my old journals. Since it made sense to begin at the beginning, I found the old spiral notebook that is my oldest existing journal, from high school.

How depressing.

The oldest stuff in there was from the summer of 1994, when I was 14—-doodles and “Top 10” lists I wrote while riding in the car during our family’s long vacation. Apparently, I was big into David Letterman at that point. Thrown inside were some loose-leaf pages from an English or creative writing class I took in 1995. The notebook then skips to December 29, 1996, which is when I started using the remaining pages as a writing journal.

A lot of stuff was happening in my life during that time. I remember that school year, my junior year, as being one of my most successful years in terms of things that commonly measure success: awards, leadership positions, recognition. But the pages that I read painted a picture of someone who was, more often than not, depressed and unsatisfied with life.

So, part of the reason it depressed me to read it is because I was reading about me being depressed. It brought back memories long-forgotten mistakes with the crystal-clear vision of someone who had just lived those events, hours before writing about them. I almost wish I had not been reminded, because they are things that I had gone years without thinking about.

It was also depressing to see my immaturity shine through in a couple of comments. Of course, I was only a junior in high school. By definition, I would have been immature at that time, and it is a good sign that I now consider those things immature.

The most depressing thing, though, is not how I was different back then, but how I am still very much the same now. The things that caused me the most grief and worry back then are still the main things causing grief and worry 10 years later.

Is that just my life? Is that just how it is going to be? It is not like I have forgotten about these things over the past 10 years. For the most part, they are things I have constantly struggled with and tried to improve. But I have not made much ground.

Is there a common denominator? Actually, there is, and it is probably the biggest factor in each of them. The common denominator is a need for approval, for acceptance. I want to be worthy—-no, I want to be seen as worthy by other people. I crave a romantic relationship because I want to be loved for who I am. I want to be more physically attractive so people will like me, and I can get that romantic relationship. I worry about what to do with my life not because of financial concerns, but because of what people will think of me if I have this kind of prestige or reveal that part of myself through writing. I was shy because I worried about what people thought of me, and I am a distracted social butterfly because I want people to like me and I am searching for someone who will easily like me.

That is just sort of it. That’s the problem. I know that God accepts and loves me, and I know that is supposed to be enough. My focus is supposed to be on pleasing Him, not pleasing people.

But people are immediate, and real, and physical. I fully believe that people exist. I would like to think that I fully believe that God exists-—and most of the time, I do-—but my belief in God is not quite as strong as my belief in people.

And I don’t know how to change that.

One other interesting thing from this first journal:

The very first page is one of the English essays. At the top is my name, the date (1-23-95) and the name of the assignment (250-word story). At the end of my 387-word story, the teacher put the grade (98/100) and a comment. The comment reads:

“You should write a book! You write very well!”

I do not know why she wrote that. The story is rubbish, and I am not just saying that because it is my own. It is rubbish compared to most of the stuff I have written.

But it is interesting that this comment was the first thing I read as I started this mental journey.

So, some interesting questions come to mind:

How do I believe in God more?

Is the goal to please God? If so, how do I please God? And how does that relate to my “help people” mantra?

As soon as I wrote the words “how do I please God”, I had a thought about fatherhood.

What does a father want from his son? Primarily love, I would think, though I have never been a father.

And what does a father want for his son? He wants his son to be successful. He wants a good life for his child, and happiness, not pain. If he disciplines or sets boundaries, it is because he is trying to keep his child away from things or behaviors that will not bring happiness and joy.

And if God is our heavenly father…

You want peaceful? Try sitting at a secluded spot by a quiet lake, at twilight, with a campfire going. The campfire is the key ingredient that was missing, I have found.

A speaker at a retreat a month ago talked about having things that stirred your affections for God. For me, nature, water, and fire do the trick.

The monarchs are migrating.

I noticed it when I was out kayaking a while ago, right before sunset. All of a sudden, a monarch butterfly cruised by, flying over the middle of the lake. He was going my way—-west, oddly enough-—so I sped up a little to keep pace with him. He flew for several seconds in front of me, at paddle’s height, and then started climbing and veering off toward a nearby hill. I was able to follow his black silhouette against the sky, even as he got fairly far away-—about a hundred feet in the air, and a few hundred yards away. Then I watched as he swooped to join several other black silhouettes-—more butterflies making their way across the planet.

Looking around, I could see them all over, dozens of them all heading generally toward the sunset. I would think they should be traveling south, but they don’t really care about my opinion.

As I watched them fly toward the setting sun, their dark forms played tricks on me, as they flitted through the same patch of sky occupied by some circling buzzards in the distance. At 100 yards, the tiny butterflies appeared the same size as the huge buzzards about a half mile away. As they seemed to fly around and through each other, I tried to get a count on what seemed an unusually large group of buzzards. It is hard to count birds circling from a half mile away, but I got a rough estimate of 28.

It is so good to be back out in nature.

© 2006 by Kevin McConaghy. All rights reserved.