Surreal

This all feels so surreal.
The week is flying by – and I feel as though I’m flying: drifting over each day, each night, barely touching the ground, instead, just tapping along and pushing off the real.
I am feeling quite ‘up in the clouds’. My days have been filled with lectures – 6, sometimes, 8 hours each day. I go running through the beautiful Pacific Spirit reserve then up Acadia Beach. I read books and write papers. I've discovered a peaceful little piano room where i am reawakening my love for playing. And along the way, I grab bits and pieces of food and sleep and news from home…

I think I entered this strange rhythm when Drew and Tai left – and suddenly my most earthy, real connections were disconnected. Now I drift amongst the many wonderful people at Regent as an interesting ghost – still meeting people, having stimulating conversations, enjoying sunshine and coffee together – but not really knowing, or caring, who or why or where we fit in each other’s worlds.
Add to that the distinct, mounting pressure of papers to write and tomes to read…and suddenly the balance of ‘head in the clouds + feet on the ground’ is lost! Instead of walking steadily on the ground, surveying the clouds, I am bouncing jerkily from one to the other, like a jumbo jet bouncing across the cornfields in a crash landing.

Am I discovering much? Yes.
Not so much from the content of my lectures, as from my contemplation within the environs.
God is present and His truth is vivid and piercing.
Perhaps I’m afraid that I’ll stop bouncing and simply come to rest, scattered around the hard, practical earth. Perhaps I’m afraid I’ll keep bouncing, each collision remodelling another angle of my tattered fuselage and how much more battering can this ol’ tin can take? Or maybe, I’m just afraid for the dear people tucked inside my heart who are doing this journey with me, silently from afar…


I’m just thankful that I’m no longer the pilot. And that the One at the helm is still at the helm.