I enjoy reading stories about rites of passage. There’s something fulfilling about a person leaving behind the safety they’ve known, facing a challenging personal quest and triumphantly returning as a respected member of society. They have faced danger, survived the experience, been changed by it and as a result have crossed over the threshold into adulthood. Why are these stories so cathartic? Perhaps because our society doesn’t have any definite rites of passage. Learning to drive, getting a job, buying a house, getting married, and raising children can all be important steps in our lives, but do this things transform us into men or women? True, getting lost in the woods, searching for an animal companion, leaping face first from a tower, or hanging from hooks embedded in the skin all seem like pretty strange ways to prove someone has reached that certain level of maturity. Still, there was at least a clear way to do so. Such methods don’t make sense to us anymore, but I wonder if we really are missing out on something those practices were meant to accomplish.

In the end, I think a lot of us simply prefer stagnation. We don’t want to leave the comforts of childhood to face real danger on our own. We don’t want to prove ourselves because it’s too much effort. We don’t want to be tested in case we discover that we’re failures, even though by not trying we’ve automatically become so. I find myself tempted to fall into the Peter Pan syndrome, not wanting to grow up, face difficulties, make sacrifices, and accept responsibility. I’m not saying we shouldn’t find joy in the little things of life. I truly admire those who find satisfaction in simplicity and I hope to follow their patterns. We should be thankful in all circumstances. But I must be on guard not to find contentment in the mundane. Have I resolved to build sandcastles on the shores of experience when an entire ocean awaits for me to explore? Am I so afraid of leaving behind what is comfortable that I’ve chosen a life of spiritual paralysis? These are things I must ask myself.

Thankfully, God tests us, whether we like it or not. I often remind myself that everything is a test. In a rather extreme example, God had Abraham prove his faithfulness by offering the one thing he cared about most, his only son. And not just any only son, but the one God had promised Abraham even though he and his wife we far beyond child-bearing years. Sure, God already knew the outcome beforehand, but I wonder what effect the experience had on Abraham and his son Isaac (who, I believe, was a young man at that point). And what an encouragement that story is to us now. Unlike many tribal rites of passage, God’s method is not a one-shot deal where failure is irreversible. Instead, we are constantly being tested. Testing is a purification process, comparable to the way gold or silver are refined through fire. Remarkably, God can work even through our failures. So I hope that I will face the next challenge willingly, seeing it as an opportunity for growth, knowing that, while it may seem terrifying, the outcome far outweighs the deceptive comforts of just giving up.

Thoughts flee like fish. They seem so beautiful when one swims near me, but when I reach in to grab and pull them to the surface, refractions of memory distort my vision and they scatter. It takes a concerted effort, a serious determination on my part to actually write something worth reading.

I’ve been thinking about writing a lot. It’s something I want to do, something I need to do. This might mean that I’ll stop posting here for a while, save the occasional “this is what’s happening in my life” posts. Then again, it could mean I’ll be writing more posts. Hard to tell. I’ve been saying it for a long time, but I really, really need to write. Here’s a few random, scattered thoughts that I’ve brought up before they slipped out of my hands back into the watery depths.

I visited some mud caves in Ocotillo with a few friends on Saturday. They were inspiring (the caves I mean, though the friends weren’t half bad either). I’d really like to do more cave exploring in the future. It’s a lot of fun and I feel that I am at a place where my personal fitness would not be a hindrance to exploring the more frequented caves. Plus, it’s just fun to say that I’m going out spelunking.

I celebrated my sister’s birthday and it was a good reminder of how thankful I am for her, and, as a matter of fact, for all my family.

After purposefully putting it off for a long time, I did a quick read-through of my High School Senior Year Book (not sure if all those capitals were necessary, but best to play it safe). I wouldn’t say it brought back a flood of memories and emotions, but rather that they slowly drifted in one by one, and are still returning. I’m amazed at how insightful some people were with what they had written to me, sometimes people I barely remembered. I was shocked by an encouraging note written by a girl who had committed suicide a couple years later. That event impacted me significantly, and probably always will. I thought if there was any way I could go back and somehow prevent such a tragedy from happening, I would, without a doubt. In another note, someone warned me against letting my talents go to waste. It made me reflect on how little I use my creativity now compared to how often I used it back then. I wondered why that is and how I can change it. Reading through those notes, I felt like I now understood some of those people from my past (and myself) better. I thought of how vain many of us were back then and how vain I continue to be today. And yet, I know I’ve grown a lot. I don’t know if I’m a whole new person but I’m definitely a different person from before.

For my sister’s birthday, I’d bought her a book she really wanted by Donald Miller, one of her favorite authors. In the opening, he writes about memories, how infrequently they are retained and how a friend of his deemed them so important as to write them down so as not to forget. I do think they’re important and there are few things I love more than creating really great memories with people and being able to later reflect fondly upon times gone by. And yet, I don’t believe memories are all we have, despite what some may say. Memories, even those that are lost, still effect us some way, still shape who we are and who we become. I thank God for the way He created our minds to work and I marvel that His grace remains whether we remember or forget. I think there is sometimes a beauty in forgetting. Is He not the One who chooses to remember our sins no more?

Finally, the weather has cooled off and it actually feels like fall. Being a person who prefers a cooler climate, I love it.

Yesterday I went with a bunch of friends to Julian. We stood in a lot of lines, bought bread from Dudley’s, picked apples in an orchard, and ate apple pie. It’s been many years since I’d been there and it was a deliciously satisfying experience.

I also had a board game night at my place on Saturday. Amy kinda put it together actually. It was fun, despite a certain individual not being able to attend. I really do enjoy being the board game guy, or as I sometimes prefer “Game Master.” It’s a role I’ve grown into nicely and one I hope to maintain for many years to come, though my purchasing of boardgames and room to store them has decreased dramatically.

While working on the freelance web design job, I stumbled upon this nifty little site, called kuler

It’s pretty handy when it comes to coming up with some color schemes, and I enjoy just browsing through the ones other people have made.