Beard Conversations

I have a beard. And a voice. And a soul. Well, I'm less sure about that last part.

January of this year, the hippie demons (no I'm not an animist. Sounding edgy gives me space in some ways) convinced me with little effort to stop shaving. So I did. Honestly, no one was really all that surprised. For starters, I had done this sort of venture before- and likely I will do it again. So although there are those surface reasons of lazy efficiency and that "I can so I will" attitude (I'm positive there's a big word for such an attitude but this is my [yearly?] post so I shall write as poorly as I please), I like to imagine there's better- though smaller- reasons underneath.

The first of these imagined motives for extended facial hair is expression. Not like artistic expression. If you've seen my beard I doubt you will find much art in it (unless "big is better" happens to be your life motto). In truth, I am constantly inundated with aspects of life that I am unconvinced are real or important. Distractions. Illusions. No, I'm not hallucinating. More than likely, I am just watching too many movies and hoping for plot lines that are more distinct. I know it's not safe but part of me would prefer when people are sad for others to know it (see my not-yet-existent post concerning "How are you?").

Thus, I grow a scraggly beard to say that inside I'm feeling a little wild, homeless, mountain-esque, _____ (fill in your own beard associations here! It's an interactive blog!). I like to imagine that as I mature and come into the wholeness of Christ that my beard would also round itself out and become more presentable as well.

The second reason for my beard- and really the main reason it has lasted- is, ironically (I hope I used that word correctly- I watched a Castle episode where he criticizes people's misuse of it. I've been nervous and hopeful using that word ever since), for the surface conversations it elicits. I confess this seems like a bad thing. But I was surprised how much I enjoyed them (feel free to rain condemnation on me for not turning beard conversations into witnessing opportunities. characters welcome [does anyone know what that means?]). And being the eNtj/p (emphasis on Intuition) that I've come to accept myself as, Ifeel like they are fine and will seek to justify them later.

Later is now: I appreciate beard conversations much like wrapping paper. Actually wrapping paper is a bad analogy (my specialty) but it makes me think of Christmas so I shall take it to the end of its roll. I see the wrapping paper and it makes me happy, though the source of the happiness is unseen inside the box. More truthfully, it is inside the intention, thoughts, actions, and soul of the giver. But the wrapping paper is the mode through which this is communicated.

I suppose I could have said this far more succintly. Beard conversations allow for easy affirmation. It is easier to say "nice beard, dude" than "I wish to affirm you in a conversation, a compliment, and some witty banter but give me a second to find the right topic and words to transmit that." I am not entirely sure, but I think the soul-benefit of beard conversations go both ways.

In other news, I wish to shave my beard soon. It needs a holiday. If only each new day weren't a new record of how long it is--

World of Travelers

I took the bus the other day.

The bus station is past the train station.

The train station is past the subway station.

The subway station is past the- alright, there is no taxi or bike stations. But there would be if I were making this into a movie.

[Don't tell anyone- but this is my second blog for the night. I have to write the biggest paper I've ever written this semester so I'm trying to trick myself into enjoying writing in the hopes that my soul will grow large enough to accept and run with my topic. Here's to words *raises symbolic pen*]

It was for a weekend trip, so my ukulele, messenger bag, and L.L. Bean backpack were among my travel buddies. Their presence conditioned me to notice other people's bags, which in turn compelled me to notice the other people. This was the part that made me wish I had memorized Dr. Seuss's "Oh the Places You'll Go" book- there is an excellent section about "the waiting place."

But the people. They were going or coming, much like I. The taxis zooming and zipping nearby.

And I thought to myself, "Ya know- somebody should write a clever, insightful blog post about how we're not so much world travelers as we are a world of travelers."

I mean, I would write it myself but I've got places to go--