here at the end of 24-7 prayer

our 24-7 prayer week has been over ONE DAY.
just one day. i already feel like i should have entirely cleaned my house from top to bottom, written all my Christmas cards, finished my knitting projects and read a book.

just fyi--i have done none of those things.

in fact, i've barely made myself a meal and put clothes on to go to work. yesterday, the rest of the day after cleaning up 24-7 prayer, was rather pathetic. i lay around all day in my pajamas, watching absurd amounts of television.

i feel a bit empty, though. last night, i had a dream that i was in this year's prayer room, slowly wandering from station to station, reading others' meditations and occasionally praying myself. i felt very at peace there. waking up knowing that everything is back to normal, that even that space has been filled back in with clutter and noise, makes me feel heavy.

this year, during my 2am-4am time slot--those deliciously serene, still morning hours when the world is painted in a softer palate than that of garish day...to borrow from shakespeare--i found myself stuck at this one station, staring up at this tiny image of myself that i had painted, meditating on this one thought:

i want to be authentic.

that thought has followed me into this evening where it cornered me on the front stoop and inundated me with emotions grand and terrifying. i am hoping that it is more than hormones, that it is my outer shell breaking down.

that's what i prayed for. i feel the flood of myself clamped until only a small stream gets through to drip slowly into the world. i feel like a ghost version of the weighty me that i sense is in here somewhere. i didnt always feel that way. in college, i felt real--no fuzzy edges but crisp, clear lines. i dont often wish to go back in time--i try to consider that i am where i am for a purpose. but there is something about my confidence and joy that i want to carry into this adult world of mine. im not sure why it got left behind in the first place.

so the tears tonight were welcome. they made me feel very present, and i enjoyed really feeling the autumn breeze and listening uninhibited to the quiet night rhythm of the neighborhood.

i wonder to myself if there might be something difficult and beautiful on the horizon. is it time to dive into the waters we've been sticking our toes in for years? is it time to leave behind the secure for the dreams? will i finally be able to rekindle the girl inside who cut her own hair, wore suspenders on campus and danced the night away with those sweet, burly irish-men? is it time for freedom once more?

waiting

we hate waiting. that's really what it all boils down to. and we hate that our world is made up of one interim after another--gray times, thin and stretching and long...ever so long.
everything is waiting. everything is gradual.
pregnancy.
learning an instrument.
learning anything.
growing friendships.
getting in shape.
(keeping your shape).
making a meal.
perhaps it wouldnt be so bad if we didnt live in a country that stands defiantly, chest puffed out, and shouts "I REFUSE TO WAIT!"
so our friendships are fake.
and we give up our dreams.
and we use surgery instead of the treadmill.
and we drive through to pick up dinner.