Chicago Thoughts

“I just flew in from the windy city, the windy city is mighty pretty...” Name that movie!!

Chicago was great. I absolutely loved the whole trip and I’m so glad we were able to go. I saw neat things. I felt neat. But most importantly, I thought neat things. Hopeful, inspiring things that I haven’t thought for a long time. Chicago taught me to dream again. To believe in myself and in my ability to make things happen. Cloud Cult may have done more for me than Chicago, or maybe it was the wonderful combination. Either way, here are a few thoughts I had while adventuring around the windy city.

1. There are a lot of people in the world. I knew this. But I didn’t understand until I was surrounded by them all, and aware of so many more humans living and breathing all around me. It was like there was an energy to the city, made of all the united life that existed in such a small space. I felt it on the “L,” as I walked around downtown, as I looked at the crazy tall buildings.

And I thought of how God knows each and every one of these people, and it made me a little overwhelmed for Him, and a little ashamed of my mini fits of drama or despair. People have so many diverse lives. The lady sitting next to me on the train with her child, her face hardened and dangerous from living and protecting this young one in such a large city, knows such a different existence than me. The two young guys coming back from class to go who knows where, talking about drinking and how they feel more mature than other people, know a much different life than me. Many of these people cannot even fathom the way I live. We are just so different.

So to think that God is so very interested in the minute details of my life, that He has a specific plan for me to stay in this state, working this job and living this way, it seems silly. His children live all over, do all sorts of things, struggle just to survive, and He cares about them all. But He doesn’t tell any of them that there life is wrong, that they’re doing it wrong. I can’t explain very well, but it was interesting.

2. Utah is small! This was felt immediately upon landing in Salt Lake City, and looking out at the vast, uninhabited valley that would be chalk full of buildings if this were Chicago. And somehow I didn’t like it. What was this one long stretch of habitation stuck in the middle of nowhere? What was it doing? So odd. I don’t want to live in downtown Chicago, that’s not what I’m saying. But I think I’m over Utah. Though it’s been so good to me.

3. I learned the power one man can make if he is dedicated to what he does and passionate about it. Listening to Cloud Cult is like a religious experience for me. Seeing Craig walk out on that stage and start setting up was holy, and I couldn’t understand how everyone could just sit and talk around me, hardly even paying attention. Then the whole band came out, and they were so familiar and exactly as I expected. I guess I feel like I know them from their documentary, so everything just made me feel at home. They started playing their songs, and the whole crowd knew the songs immediately, and cheered and clapped and sang along for the entirety of the show. I think this would normally have frustrated me, but I sang right along with them, tears in my eyes.

I was one person back from the front row, eyes riveted the whole time, swaying in the music and wondering how this group can touch people so profoundly. Seeing them “in real life” (IRL) brought me to life in a way that not much else has. I really felt I was waking up for the first time in a long time. Is that weird? Like this was a moment I wanted to be present for, because I wanted to remember it forever.

This was a common feeling for the rest of the trip. Remembering that sense of aliveness, and also very much wanting to stay alive, Smalls and I had to be very alert wherever we went in the city. So we planned each day thoroughly, and then when we went out, we paid attention. We saw everything around us, and we observed the people. It was my favorite thing to wonder about the people we saw, where they were going, what there everyday life was like that included a ramble through downtown Chicago. I experienced everything, and it was a unique and delightful feeling. If only I felt that much awareness and excitement about everyday of my life. If only I felt every person I pass in Provo were worth my time, my observation. And if only every expression of humanity could be as meaningful to me as the one I saw from Cloud Cult.

4. It is time to change my life. I laid awake each night and thought about my life back home. There is nothing that I care about in it. I work at one job that is nice but uneventful, and another that I hate and have therefore quit, thanks to this clarifying experience. I go to school for a program I feel lukewarm about at best, and have always informed people of with an almost apologetic or ashamed tone to my voice. There is no excitement, no passion. I could move on tomorrow and never have a second thought. And though I have great friends in Provo and the surrounding areas, they are not people I will spend the rest of my life with. I just keep waiting for my life to start for me to sit up and take notice, but I think it’s time I started my own life and fall in love with it. Time I persued my dreams and made my life what I want it to me.

So this train of thought usually leads me to the despairing realization that I don’t know what I want out of life and am therefore lost and clueless. This is not true. There are things I love to do and want to immerse myself in. I have just never believed in my ability to be any good at them. I’ve been so afraid of not being enough my whole life, of being judged and found wanting, that I stopped trying things so I wouldn’t have to deal with the failure.

I love to write. I do a shoddy job of it on here, because it’s nice to have a place to rant and spew thoughts in no random order at all. A part of me thinks I am no good at writing anyway, and that’s why I gave up the dream in high school. There is absolutely no evidence of this. I have excelled in every English class I’ve taken, passed every paper I’ve written with very little effort. I do believe my education was a joke and I skated by on very little effort, so its not that I’m amazing and wouldn’t have challenges. But nothing that has happened should ever have convinced me I couldn’t do something to make money with words. Some writing jobs you do not, in fact, have to be amazing to get by.

I also love music. This is more of a sticky subject. I don’t believe I will ever make a dime playing music. But I do believe I want to join up and create with others. Luckily my brother has a new vision of us in a band together. I am currently giving him voice lessons, and once we get some stuff worked out we’ll fuse our musical stylings for something that, if it happens, will have no alternative than to be truly unique. I want an electric guitar and I want to scream on stage, to pour out everything I’ve got. Just some, you know? I want to get good at other instruments too, and go to jams with John and do so much more, and I want to stop being afraid.

I think it’s also time to stop picking professions that will allow me to be a mom. That’s sort of what led me to the idea of teaching and counseling; great job for a parent should I need to work. This is not pity party, this is just realistic. I’ve attempted to save all this time to spend with a family, but without family it’s just empty time that reminds me of what I don’t have. Going to another state and working a job that did not remind me every day that I am not fulfilling my eternal mission would be just lovely. So perhaps I am dropping this program and most likely I am leaving Utah very soon. She’s done me well these last ten years. But ten’s a nice celebratory number appropriate for moving on and letting go. Letting go of all the half-forgotten dreams, the lessons learned that are now a part of me and will come with me wherever I go, letting go of broken hearts and unfulfilled fates.