On Transience and the Migratory Patterns of the Self

It's long... bare (this will make more sense at the end) with me :

I found an old draft from a late August morning, 2009:

So I had a frustrating morning on Sunday, all because a little plan I'd made didn't work out. It was frustrating. In my frustration I began to think and reflect about some of the less finer points on being a stranger in a strange land and sincerely call into question my reasons for being here, and the reality of my renewing a contract for a second year. It was really the first day in almost nine months now that I'd had of it's kind, but the revelations were along the lines of what I would have expected from such musings, and here they are... at least to some degree.
The first (and only) thing I wanted to do after this frustrating failed meeting of minor import (in the grand scheme of life) purposed to finalize the sale of the camera I borrowed for my trip to China, was to go home. However it was Sunday morning, and I was supposed to be on my way to church. I was already late for the final leader's meeting of a collage group I had volunteered for over the summer months, and I hate being late. The fact that I was a minute late for the previous meeting is what put me out of sorts to begin with. At any rate, I felt obligated, or determined, to go to church.
Then I asked myself why.
Truth be told, I don't feel that connected here. To anyone really, which is one of the reasons I volunteered to facilitate a Bible study with a few college guys over the summer. It turned out I had a good group of guys. Very involved and impassioned individuals to whom I felt I could offer little more than my limited availability, We played soccer, read and talked a bit on Sundays, but they're gone or going now, and I was faced with a microcosm of my own reflected circumstances that I had to address.
It seems for the last half of my life I've felt like I'm gone or going somewhere. This has become a little more identifiable the last few years, but even in high school my greatest excuse (for that is what it seems at times) for not being more involved in people's lives was that I was gone or going somewhere.
Which is not to say I didn't, or don't, have great friends, from many stages of life, but it is to say that those stages are clearly layered, like a spiral staircase, and as I look back I see that I'm the one who leaves each step along the way. I also seem not to have much direction, for I tread the same steps over and over again, up down and around, only occasionally happening upon a trend of greater diversity. For a time I found rest in one, but I've skipped over it the last few years, and it's a growing platform that only concerns me in the fact that I may not be able to avoid it much longer.
Whenever I think about my lack of present relationships with people, I find myself staring at that vast landing, wondering how I can get around it this time. I usually try tiptoeing across, but it creaks and announces my presence every time. Perhaps my propensity to try and talk about things without never really talking about them is part of why I feel so isolated; not everyone is comfortable being stranded on a deserted island of metaphor (or simile, hyperbole, allegory, parable, or whatever other imagery might come crashing onto shore).


...Cut to the present:

These thoughts did not die that day in August of '09... they've simply festered, like most unsolved conflicts in life tend to do before reaching their climax and resolution to eventually (we hope) fade away in a satisfying denouement. But these have not yet reached that point; in fact, they are still rising up at times given an array of circumstances that failed to meet certain expectations pertaining to this year, but I'm coping thus far, and biding my time. Still, it occurs to me that while "no man is an island" it's very easy to become a peninsula, holding on to the continental shelf of community by an eroding bridge of land, and that seems to fit the pattern I construct for myself: despite efforts to connect with the lives of those around me the oceans surrounding me churn and sweep the sands of relationship out into the abysmal thoughts and feelings and habits that years of metered solitude have carved out around me, and sure the result is a vast ocean trench with little in the way of shallow water beaches to enjoy, but I find the depths hold their own beauty, vast coral reefs gathered there in the endless time to think and ponder and pen such musings, dark though they be, on the secret nature of things most people tend to neglect, eliciting an inner life as illuminating and illusory as most external ones become: and who could blame them? Not I.
As sure as shoring up our shallowness can lead to certain facades, plumbing our depths can lead to a measure of emptiness, and both can be equally destructive when seeking understanding for others, and in others for ourselves.
While it's all well and good to know I'm never alone, not in the greatest allowance of the word, the point of fact that I am quite alone exists in such that I'm most often by myself. And it's not a new thing. It's a been a thing cultivated to perfection over years of repeated efforts since a particular relationship went south and I stopped wanting to be around people because it hurt. And for a while that was about as good and healthy a solution as I could manage. But that wound is long scarred over and it's high tide... (sorry, it's hard to escape some metaphors once begun) ...high time I built more bridges rather than canals, securing rather than separating people's stakes in my life.
So, if I've done my fair share of pushing you away, I apologize. I'm sure it will take some time for me to relearn how to effectively engage people as I should, (ie: outside of writing notes on Facebook) but I'll appreciate your patience while doing so. If you haven't noticed a change in me (for the worse)... I guess that's a good thing; hopefully that means things will only get better between us. I think this stems as much from my desire to pursue grace and share the same as any recent thoughts of mine...
At any rate, this doesn't mean I've found a home, or am heading there, but it does mean I'm ill-content with these frayed tethers that pass for lifelines in the free-state of loneliness, and would rather be anchored to something a little stronger, for a little longer, than one year-long contract at a time... especially concerning my relationships with people.

If you made it through that mess above you deserve my gratitude. You've done as much as I could have asked of anyone. Thus, next we meet in person just say these magic words: "Coffee is on you!" and if it's in my power (ie: without going into debt), I'll do my best to make it so.

- Foster