Analogies aren't always easy to cook up. This topic has been mulling around in my head all week, and a recent conversation I had helped to bring out the heart of my thoughts. To relate how I feel, I'd like to pose the question: how hard do you think it'd be to stop a train? It's impossible! Even other trains struggle with it! Such mass and speed isn't stopped; you work around it. You stand on the side and watch the thing barrel by. Even if the monolith-on-wheels is racing a toddler down the tracks, you couldn't stop it.
Like a train, I feel like my life has moved forward w/o my consent or even an nod of acknowledgement in my direction. Though, to make the comparison more appropriate, I s'pose I'd be on the train; I get to watch the things around me flip by, b/c there's no way I can stop.
I first got to thinking about this on my most recent visit to SLO. It wasn't a purely leisure trip as some of my other southerly sojourns: I spent all of Friday working from home in V's condo. The following day I ran around w/ Mom scouting out stuff for the wedding. But despite the hustle and bustle, I tried to make time to hang out w/ my friends. I was doing what I'm learning to do best: to live in the margins.
But at a lunch I had w/ two particular friends, it became apparent to me that my efforts were but toothpicks before the inexorable pace that my life has taken.
Back in my 3rd year of college, I had to bid [a temporary] farewell to my friend Bobby. Bobby meant a lot to me, and it was difficult and new to adjust to living college w/o his input into my life. But for the first couple of months afterwards, he made a couple trips down to SLO to visit. To reconnect w/ the friends he still had in the area. And while I never got that much of his attention (a lot of people tend to pull at you when you go back), it was always nice to see him. I knew it wasn't meant to last, but I couldn't help but entertain the thought. Y'know what I'm talking about:
"They'll come down every now and then. At least on a semi-regular basis. I'll still see him/her. Not everything will change. I can still keep the familiar."
But you know that's not the truth. And sure enough, after about 6 months, we didn't hear much more from Bobby. The guy bought a house up in the Bay, had a killer job as a software engineer, and attended a stellar church in the Bay. It was to be expected, and I didn't feel at all slighted when we fell out of touch.
In my mind, I didn't want that to happen. When I graduated, I wanted to maintain the relationships that mattered to me. Make the calls. Put out the effort. Not lose what was important to me: my friends. You see, I don't have much of a "family". I have a Mom, and that's about it. The rest are socially or geographically distant. While some of them are really great people, I never grew up with them: I have no real background w/ which to base a long-standing relationship. But my friends - they're what I hold onto. They've weathered life with me. They're where I invest. Where I pour my attention, concern, and gifts. Without my friends, I'm just...alone.
Thusly situated 200+ miles away from SLO, I geared up to keep in touch. I could feel this urge to try and go deep with my friends: to spend the brainpower w/ them that school and projects didn't allow. And for a while, it worked. It really did. When I reached out, they responded. When we talked, we talked long; we shared lots. When I completed another week of work, I could look back and remember the "check-ins" I'd made - the points of contact with my former life that comforted me; kept me grounded.
Chugga-chugga-chugga
At that lunch, life's train seemed to be going faster than I expected. Instead of picking things up where we left up, there was just...well, nothing to touch on. We just...sat. Removed as I am from their lives, I couldn't connect with them. I can't connect with them. At least, not like I'm used to.
I realized just how much my life up here has taken root, and how much I've left behind in SLO. I work 9a-6p (sometimes 7p or 8p), Mon-Fri. I come home. I eat. I sleep. I start over. My life isn't chalk-full of the eccentricities and spontaneity that their college-life provides. The battle to keep up with them is an uphill battle fought backwards, in the rain, at night, blindfolded. And I know I'm losing ground.
Maintaining relationships from distance puts strain on the relationship. I've noticed the burden it puts on me and V: I need to see her. To be able to communicate w/ her in more ways than just a digital signal. With my friends, I've lost the commonality with which we built our interactions.
Without realizing it, I've "moved on". The next "stage" is here, and I had to take care of it. It was meant to happen and natural, just like when Bobby faded away. For me, it just didn't feel like a fade. I'd fallen asleep on the train and a sudden bump in the clickity-clack of those steel wheels on polished rails had jolted me awake to find myself 200 miles away from where I'd fallen asleep.
Perhaps the take away is to rely more on God to provide the stability in my life that I need. After all, it's a great illustration of how life can get away from me, how I'm not in control, and how it's very easy for my environment to change and I have to adjust to something new. God's not gonna' go anywhere, right? He's always right where I need Him; right next to me. Maybe that's where the investment really needs to go.
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