Outward bound.

Much of my life the past two years has revolved around my existence as a full-time student at Anoka-Ramsey Community College. My time there is coming to an end this semester, as I'm finishing my generals and moving elsewhere. In some ways, this semester is almost a letdown due to the fact that I'm only taking 7 credits. I have Math for Liberal Arts Majors (for those who know they'll do something creative in their lives, because math sure isn't it) and Wellness For Life, which is basically working out 3 days a week and spending a couple hours talking about how to stay healthy. So, pretty easy stuff. Last semester, though, was a different story.

When I get to the point where I want to do something, that's it - I throw myself into whatever that thing is entirely - there's nothing half-assed about my approach. So it went with English Lit classes last spring. There was British Literature, American Literature since 1865, Literature for Children, and Humanities, which essentially propped up the Lit classes with a bit of contextualization with the other arts of the time. English classes were fairly unmemorable in high school, but these made me see things in an entirely different light. The words of these poets and great writers were filled with life (yes, even the moderns). These classes revitalized my interest in language; what's more, they opened me to even hearing God in a different way.

Who says that only Christian authors have a claim to writing the truth? Last semester, I was challenged by some really deep stuff from people like Tennyson, T.S. Eliot (who, apparently, both British and American literature classes like to claim as their own), Fitzgerald... granted, the classes were mostly just a survey, but the food for thought you get from just breezing over some of these authors is enough to last you quite a while.

One of the themes that I immediately relate to is from the modern era - around the early 20th century. With the world at war, and society becoming more and more industrialized, there was this sense among the writers of the time that we were losing our connection to the earth, that all our worldly progress was taking its toll on our spirits. W.B. Yeats is one of the more well-known poets from that time, capturing this feeling in his poem "Lake Isle of Innisfree":

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear the water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

Whatever "it" is for Yeats, I feel that in my heart too. For me, the natural world and connecting with God are intrinsically linked. The best way that I'm able to spend time with God is by getting away and going outside. I love technology and immersing myself in media, watching tons of movies and the like, but I know deep down that too much can mess me up spiritually. There's a restlessness that comes with not having those experiences of disconnecting and taking time to "be still and know that He is God."

Growing up near water has meant a great deal to me. It's been a constant presence, a source of reflection and peace. This goes all the way back to when I was born. My parents had a tiny little starter house that was situated about a block away from the Mississippi River. When I was three, they built a house in Coon Rapids, the one that they still live and most likely will until the end of time. Our backyard opens up onto a fairly sizable wooded park with Coon Creek running through, and the other guys in the neighborhood and I built several forts, each one getting more elaborate; the best one was on a gigantic tree that had fallen over on its side, with several floors and a tire swing. The Coon Rapids Dam was within a few minutes' biking distance, and it was where I spent much of my time in the summer. In the past few years, the trails connected to the Dam have taken me across Minneapolis and the suburbs, with the mighty Mississippi constantly flowing close by. In addition, I've taken quite a few trips to the Boundary Waters with my father and brother, usually at the end of the summer (the BWCA is at its best in August, in my opinion). Every year, it's been sort of the place where I reflect on all that's happened since I was there last, and to prepare for the year ahead. I haven't taken that trip in a few years, and I've realized recently that I missed it.

This weekend, I'll be going camping with Sarah and her extended family at Fort Ridgely State Park near New Ulm in the Minnesota River Valley. Her family has been going to this same camp for the past 20 years or so, since her mom grew up close to there; it's one of those parks that people haven't really heard of, since it's not near the North Shore. They always go Labor Day weekend, so it's kind of their last hurrah of the summer as well. I'm hoping to get some good writing done and spend some time with God in the next couple days. Also, since Sarah heads back to school for realz on Tuesday, it'll be nice having some time away with her as well. This couldn't come at a better time, as there's plenty in life that feels very up in the air right now... hopefully some clarity will come out of this time away.