window reflections

I was driving up to Hood River in Oregon last week with some dear ol' Wheaton housemates, past gorgeous mountains and rushing rivers. I began looking out the window silently and was transported to another time and another place. It was a land of memories, a place of unanswered questions, where I wander, lost in a forest of uncertain decisions. Looking out windows tends to take me to this place. I'm sure I'm not the only one.

But then the car stopped at a glorious overlook and when I climbed out, the wind blew straight into me, as if singing--Anna, you are HERE, here in Oregon, in this beautiful creation, here at this time with your lovely companions, and it is beautiful and it is good.

I was snapped back to the moment, back to Oregon, and it was beautiful and it was good. It was good to be me, be there, at that moment.

Our next stop was at a winery. We took small sips of 14 different wines, all unique in their flavors, smells, and even colors. It was a spiritual experience, in a way. Each day brings its own flavors--here a sweet cherry, there a smokey oak. They mix together and present the palette with a rich aroma and full flavor. I sip and try to taste each ingredient, each moment of this crazy life. Sometimes life gets confusing and the flavors of the wine are too strong and bitter. Yet I bring the glass to my lips and drink.

My companions seemed to be living full lives, enjoying the richness each day brings. I began thinking about how future-focused I am, constantly planning the Next Step and asking other people what their plans are. This is how I grew up--just ask my dad. And people ask me all the time what my plans are after this grad school deal. But truth is, I don't know. I give a different answer to each person, hoping that I'll verbally stumble onto something that sounds perfect and then have a definite goal to work towards. But hell, I simply don't know where I'll be three years from now, and I'm not sure I want to know. I'm enjoying school, here and now, and that's sufficient. Maybe I don't need answers about the future. This is what I'm doing now and, well, that's that.

"Be patient towards all that is unsolved. Try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms, not seek the answers that cannot be given because you would not be able to live with them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then, gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer." (Rilke)