Today I’m ready to run away. To take the children by the hand and race across the fields to our cottage in the glade. That little white-washed, hand strewn house filled with books and imagination and air that tastes free; outside wildflowers stand guard against the world’s insidious pleasures.
Oh, how I am done with the world!
I am tired of the performing and the “right” way. I’m tired of perfection and the look of “together” and rules–even “break all the rules!” is a rule unto itself. I’m tired of living hard-pressed against a measuring stick. Let’s just throw it all away.
The rush. The excess. The productivity. I just want to raise children who climb barefoot through the trees, to stitch truth with my hands, and make my own goat cheese.
In my glade productivity won’t rule the roost. We’ll take walks just to meander without any thought of scholarly achievement. We’ll let idle play roam on my own hands and knees without the thought of multitasking.
We’ll read books under the shade of trees without a lingering guilt of something else–something better, more productive to do. We’ll make time for dance parties in the rain and listen full-face as children tell their tales. We’ll rest without worry that we’re missing something better.
We’ll throw off the world’s chains, I tell you!
We’ll sing to ill-tuned guitars and mash out misplaced chords. We’ll take advice like a grain of rice that our children should be quiet and still and fold their curious minds in their lap. We’ll explore the world and let adventures abound broadening horizons and languages and minds. And if our kids get pegged with “too smart for their age,” if they’re “weird” with the thirst of the unknown–the names of Jurassic sea creatures and how to make chain mail and they tell their own tales worthy of Grimm’s anthology–who cares?
And beauty, oh yes, beauty, we’ll embrace and dance with Keats. But this disguise yourself beauty, this drop 30lbs then you’re attractive, acceptable beauty? This wrinkle-free, gray-free, shirt tucked in no blimp around the waist beauty? This degrade my body, wrap myself in jokes and snide comments beauty? This one size fits all beauty?
The world can have it back. I don’t want it. It doesn’t fit me anymore…it never really fit. This beauty is void of truth.
Oh, yes, I know the naysayers. I hear their harassing, beckoning call. They echo like sirens. They’ve been my critical companions these 30 years. They call for common sense. They tell me my sensibilities are nice and all, but won’t put bread on the table.
To them I say,
There is better bread.
To them I say,
The world you call “real” is but a mirage. It’s a beautiful mirage of perfection and straight lines. It tells you if you do ‘x’ you’ll be accepted, happy even. What it negates are the chains wrapped around your ankles and the dream it sells so easily achieved comes with a high interest of ‘never enough.’ Never enough. I’m over it.
So you see, I may be wearing rose-colored glasses but I’m called to a world where truth and beauty are one in the same. Where rest is the prize and comes with no cost. I belong to a world where life is spoken begetting life and death’s dark words are left at the gate. I belong to a world where Peace reigns and Joy is forever secure.
I belong to a world where patience and stillness are virtues, where cultivating souls is holy, edifying work. I belong to a world of brother and sister with no room for debasement or belittling or any act that would deny God as their Creator. I belong to a world lead by Peace, redeemed by Grace, set apart by Righteous Beauty, and pursued by Love.
I am done with this diminishing world, too long I’ve played it mistress. I’m setting out for the new.
This world, with all its treasures and trappings, I’m saying goodbye. You’ve stolen enough. My heart is set, feet at the ready…for this world I am but a mist.
I head out on the road before me, to this world I say goodbye. I journey to my place secure.