Cynicism, Anyone? Ah, yes! And Hope.

As is my custom, I've been deep in thought. A couple nights ago (Wednesday?) Aza and I were sitting downtown writing. It was pretty late; the sun asleep for a several hours, at that point. But there we sat. I love sitting downtown at night. I love the lights and the character of the old buildings, casting shadows; each one telling a story. I was trying to write and was stuck, so he suggested I write about the building I had just admired, what I would do if I owned it. Normally, this task is an easy one. I dream often and big.

Once, while sitting in downtown Grand Rapids with Megan, Heather, and Lindsey, I turned a building into a life-skills center with state-of-the-art kitchens, vintage art studios, and a technology center, with the upper floor renovated into four studio flats, providing free housing for the 8 full-time staff that worked there. On the roof there were gardens and seating and a labyrinth. Sound cool? Yeah, that's what's (formerly) always trapsing through my mind.

But I haven't dreamt in a while. And when Aza asked me to write about the building with character practically yelling at me to take note and record, other voices, voices of fear, doubt, and pain, grew to a deafening level. I finished my three pages I try to write daily, but it wasn't about the Beattle Building (I believe that's the name of the building). When I explained this to Aza, I added, "But I don't think you really mind."

"I do," he said, much to my surprise.
"Why?" I inquired.
"I haven't heard any of your dreams in a long time."

I was stunned. I knew I had stopped dreaming, but I hadn't realized that anyone had noticed their absence, let alone missed them.

Life can be cruel. And if we're not careful the ups and downs and curveballs and suckerpunches and disappointments and disillusionments that life offers so generously can quench the resilence that defines, at least in part, the human spirit.

From here I will journey. Forwards. Backwards. Inwards. Outwards. I must continue on, dancing with the great, mysterious, creative order that sustains the world around me.