The inner workings...

There is a place in the heart that calms and allows itself to be soothed. But in the head a person can get lost in the inner workings of their mind, especially if those workings never cease. A constant running and movement of thought makes space for everything and anything to get lost and at the same time found (during the most bizarre times). There is far more to that statement than what I have communicated. When there are these thoughts that have lengthy tangents and each one of those have tangents, and the most sensational thing about all this tangenting is that they all, in some way, link... Everything that you think about links to the original thought in some way.

But aside from the dynamics of tangenting, there is also the never-ceasing workings of the mind. So much goes on all the time and then you get lost... In your head is your world. There's something scary about this and I don't often know whether it is a battle or it's a legitimate existence. Maybe it's a battle - your mind should be under lordship, and you should at least have some semblence of control so that at those odd moments of reverential silence you can keep your thoughts on the topic at hand. Something in that previous sentence makes sense - in my spirit I feel that some measure of that is true. But I would hate to disqualify the notion that it's legitimate to have such constant movement.

The only trouble with all this running around is that you CAN think too much. I'm sure that you can. You find problems you never thought you had or you blow them out of proportion. I think it's because you can get too self-absorbed.

But I'm not sure. Maybe I'm wrong. I often think too much and it leads to me being completely self-absorbed and none too pleased to interact with the outside world. This includes God... I often don't let Him into that part of me and forget to take Him into the dark places where much thought and 'running around' happens. This is most often where my thoughts are very active. And then comes the question of who am I anyway? What do I know about anything and how can I like myself? How can anyone else? The brokenness creeps in. The light dims and I'm lost. Wandering around like a small child in her nighty trying to make sense of her existence.

And then God does something as little as allowing me to bump into someone and I'm interrupted from these thoughts that were chasing each other as I walked to modernism or the dining hall. Thank the Lord for (literally) small bumps in the road that shake me from my reverie.

Light creeps in and the child starts to skip and prance around in the sunlight.