I certainly am not referring to anything in the academic sense, although trust me, I am learning a lot academically.  Rather, it is becoming clear to me that, once again, my principle purpose in being here is not necessarily to get a degree (although that, also, is true), but that I am here to grow and learn, personally.

It is comical to me that I will tell people, and actually believe, that I am an open book.  This is true if you are one of the chosen few whom I have decided to trust and confide in, but even then, there are times where I am rarely forthcoming.  So, what has been pointed out to me recently are all of my walls.

Now, I thought I got rid of a lot of walls in Bible college, and those who knew me then and before can attest to that truth.  But apparently God still wants more.

I can tell when I’m projecting a false front, when I’m doing my best to keep people at an arm’s length.  It’s just that I almost have no control over those moments when being vulnerable feels like baring my soul to people who will only take that information and use it against me.  Clearly that is rarely going to be true, and while one should be careful with what one shares and to whom, there is more benefit in allowing oneself to be true inside and out.

My inside person is not always who the outside sees.  Not half as often as it should be.  Any hint of threat (in my mind) and I immediately shut down and tuck away.  But generally, these threats are only perceived, not real at all.

I’m going to work on it.  I suppose like everything else, it’s practice.

But now, I will leave you with a poem.  One that I liked when I first read it, but through subsequent readings, found it kind of sad.

Teodoro Luna’s Two Kisses by Adrienne Rich
Mr. Teodoro Luna in his later years had taken to kissing
His wife
Not so much with his lips as with his brows.
This is not to say he put his forehead
Against her mouth–
Rather, he would lift his eyebrows, once, quickly:
Not so vigorously he might be confused with the villain
Famous in the theaters, but not so little as to be thought
A slight movement, one of the accident.  This way
He kissed her
Often and quietly, across tables and through doorways,
Sometimes in photographs, and so through the years themselves.
This was his passion, that only she might see.  The chance
He might feel some movement on her lips
Toward laughter.

Advertisements