looking back is sad  =(

Both you and I can look inside.  For a while you've shown no interest in this place, yet I still came to wait for you, writing what I wanted you to know.  Only you and I can look inside.  I've said "I love you" so many times that perhaps it's become meaningless to you.  Pause for a moment and you'll feel my presence.  Then you'll know by my spirit how I think and how I feel.

Today we live in a world so shallow that I seldomly find satisfaction, and even less so, find meaning in my dialogue with people.  So contrived is our communication that absolutely nothing of value may be said in what's considered a lengthy conversation.  I've come to a point where I'm discouraged to converse with anyone because when I do, either one of two things happen:  there's a rather artificially formal aura about the conversation that arises from a clumsy attitude of trying to say the right things, or there's nothing more but a shallow exchange of words on meaningless topics.  The overall feeling I get from such conversations is actually the lack of any feeling at all.  Somehow in this day and age such shallow conversation has become standard so that we're satisfied with something intrinsically unsatisfactory.  Apparently, there's someone else who thought this too.

"....while thinking is the mightiest act a man can perform, perhaps for the very reason that it is the mightiest, it is the one act he likes the least and avoids most."

"Aside from a few professionals, who cannot number more than one-tenth of one percent of the population, people simply do not think at all except in the most elementary way. Their thinking is done for them by the professionals."

"One would naturally suppose that verbal intercourse with congenial friends should be one of the most profitable of all mental activities; and it may have been so once but no more. It is now quite possible to talk for hours with civilized men and women and gain absolutely nothing from it. Conversation today is almost wholly sterile. Should the talk start on a fairly high level, it is sure within a few minutes to degenerate into cheap gossip, shoptalk, banter, weak humor, stale jokes, puns and secondhand quips. So we shall omit conversation from our list of useful intellectual activities, at least until there has been a radical reformation in the art of social discourse."

A.W. Tozer

So here it's explained why people devolve into low-animal conversation:  we simply don't want to pick at each other's brains, because if we do, too much energy will be spent learning from each other which is seemingly far too uncomfortable for most people.  The ultimate attitude seems to be that thinking is specifically done during those times devoted to work and study (like in school) and all other times are for our brains to shut down and rest.

The only remedy is self-examination, in which one should ask questions like "What do my friends and I usually talk about in a casual setting?", "How do I think and feel about most conversations when I walk away from them?" and "Do I remember learning anything from day-to-day conversations?"  Then ask yourself if you're bothered by what you come up with.  If you conclude that your usual topic of conversation is shallow as described above, but still don't feel bothered, then I don't want to talk to you.

It's been a week since my last entry.  Feelings don't stay constant, but if the feeling is derived from something intense, it's likely to occur often and at unexpected times.  Those things I care about have the ability to cut me like a sword.  The pain is sharp and may never heal without proper treatment.  At times when I'm cut with the sword, I have to do the right thing, or the wound may not heal or even get worse.

It's ironic that those things that give you the most joy in your life are also capable of inflicting the most pain.  The past year and a half was the happiest period of time in my life.  Now I realize I've never been as miserable as I am now.

Sometimes I'm minding my own business and a flood of emotions hits me.  They're usually triggered by things and places that remind me.  Here in Urbana-Champaign there are few places and few things that won't remind me.  I'm moving to ISR later this week, and there I will find no peace.  I'm not always sad, only sometimes.  However, there isn't a single day that passes by that I don't feel a  great  void in my life.  I wonder how it'll be in another week.  I am still capable of being happy, but happiness is a feeling, and feelings come and go.  If the likelihood of being unhappy is greater than being happy, should I want to get up in the morning?

Love is patient, love is kind.  It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, it always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  1 Cor. 13: 4-7

I wonder how many people truly understand this kind of love.  Here its attributes are strongly on one side of the spectrum.  I call this the "condition spectrum" in which the lowest point is that of completely conditional love and the highest point is completely unconditional love.  Sometimes we love things for their attributes.  For instance, sometimes we love material possessions because they have attributes that please us.  Consider that you own a car that doesn't satisfy you.  Most likely you won't love the car.  However, because you dislike the  car you own, you buy a new one.  This one, on the contrary, is the epitome of the car you've always wanted; it satisfies you in all aspects.  In other words, it's "perfect."  Perfect things are easier to love, are they not?

Now consider the kind of love a mother has for her child.  Sometimes on the news you hear of juvenile delinquents who commit crime after crime, whose parents defend time after time.  As an impartial observer, you would most likely believe the child is hopeless, and that he has serious personal deficiencies.  As a result, you question the judgment of the parent, and believe that you would think very differently.  I've never had a child so I won't pretend to understand the kind of love a mother has a for a child, but I can still testify the love I feel my mother has for me.  Although I've been rather imperfect, she has loved me from the beginning.  As a child grows older, there is only loss of innocence.  It can never be recovered, and that tells us that the world corrupts.  Perhaps at some level of corruption, even a mother may choose not to love her child anymore.  As deep as a mother's love for a child is, it is still not completely unconditional.  Human love is simply incapable of unconditional love.  We consider the faults of our loved ones, we judge them, and we often hurt them intentionally.  Such behavior can't possibly exhibit perfect love.

These days I ask myself if I ever tried to love unconditionally.  I don't keep a record of wrongs, and I don't wish to poison my love for Miranda with my pride.  I am a hollow man who longs for something he can't have.  Love always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  If this is the case, I have tried, tried, and tried to love unconditionally.  I love her more than I ever imagined possible, and it hurts to be apart from her.  Now I desire to follow His example because only He is capable of complete love.  I will persevere.....