Nearly one in the morning. It seems a great deal of my blog posts start that way. Especially lately. George and I spent the last several hours talking about various things. Our personal goals and spiritual plans for the coming months. There seems to be a theme of planning going on in a lot of areas lately. Last night the education committee planned our public offerings for the year. Earlier this week the membership discussed energetic and spiritual themes for the year. I’ve been working on planning my studies for the coming months.

This of course makes sense given the season. Spring is coming a bit late, but we seem to be making the best of it by planning our planting and growing season more carefully than we have in the past. Part of it may be because we sense that the season for growing, and the opportunity we will have to harvest may be shorter this year than it has been in the recent years. We may have to coax as much as we can from the land to hold us through the winter.

Earlier I began to write a post that I’ve killed for now. I was exploring the methods by which we approach our life, and the risks inherent in some approaches. While I feel like I’ve got a lot to say on this, I found that what I was writing was more heavy handed than I’d like. And perhaps more intolerant than I’m currently comfortable with as well. As I mentioned to George earlier, more and more I’m coming to believe that the framework in which we put ourselves is far less important than the spirit with which we invest that framework.

There are uncounted traditions and frameworks which we can use to model our spiritual lives. There are religious, philisophical, humanistic, mystical, and scientific ways of looking at our lives, and our interactions with the world around us. We are a people whose strength is rooted most firmly in our diversity, genetically as well as culturally. More and more I am coming to believe that we bring spirit to the model, not the other way around. Every model has the chance to be fulfilling, to be nurturing, to be empowering. It is the light we choose to invest that framework with that makes it meaningful.

As a result, I’m finding it harder to write about models or frameworks that I find distasteful. Not that I can’t describe them, but that I have trouble talking about them. My gut screams a disparaging message. I want to write how damaging and potentially unhealthy a particular way of looking at the world may be. I start to write exactly that, and I find that I am caught up in a web of caveats and potentials that is somewhat debilitating.

I’m not sure how to say “This practice isn’t for me because I think it leads to an overly analytical approach to life that makes truly living impossible.” Even typing that sentence I had to stop myself from adding words like plausibly, may, potentially. I’m not even speaking about a specific practice and I have trouble decrying it as bad. The trouble here is that I’m struggling to find a healthy way to respect the validity of a practice in it’s useful context, my fear of the practice when taken outside what I consider healthy boundaries for myself, and still communicate a valuable and meaningful examination of the practice. I don’t know what I’ll work out, but I will manage it.

I think a lot of it is going to come down to being a bit more honest and up front about how I feel about certain things. For example, compartmentalizing and analyzing my life like a business or an experiment makes me nauseated. I have a profound reaction to the very concept that I have trouble expressing in word. My philosophy has brought me to an appreciation of the chaos and unexpected nature of the path that we walk. I’ve come to value the unknown, and think that trying to put myself into a grid or a chart cheapens and dishonors the beauty of what occurs naturally.

I know that I have much still to learn, many lessons to be taught, and many changes that must occur in my life. But I find the thought of seeking those lessons like a targeted missile to be repugnant. The greatest lessons I’ve learned in my life were discovered when I stopped at a rest stop on the way to one goal or another. They’ve been found beneath billboards advertising phone sex, and nestled in the crook of small trees off the metaphorical beaten path.

The eye on the prize mentality that comes with compartmentalization and scientific methodology in life journeys seems to make these side journeys less likely, keeping me away from the wisdom and experience that I seek. It may take me longer to get to my stated goal, but I am far richer and more prepared for the next steps than I would be if I hadn’t taken those detours.

So I guess that’s my message for the night. Life is a road trip, don’t forget to enjoy the flat tires and detours.