I've Been Digging

Where I've Gone and (some) of What I've Found

I stood guard over our bags waiting my turn to erase the feeling of stale air and twelve hours of restlessness. I had a full change of clothes, a toothbrush, deodorant, cologne, and a hand towel in my arsenal—doing my best to feel like I hadn't just spent the night attempting sleep flying over the Atlantic, my AirPod Pros forgotten back home. The melatonin hadn't yet cleared my brain.

We stepped out of the terminal into a place where we knew very little of the language, had only an elementary idea of how to navigate, a general direction where we were supposed to go, and no real sense of familiarity.

Nice, France in October is beautiful. Our whole trip felt like we were living scenes out of a movie. Nice like geese, but with an 'N'.

Nice held treasures for me and Jessica waiting for us to explore and find. And we did. We had a loose agenda—just a few specifics—but most of our time in Nice was spent following where the city led us.

By day two, our blood ran with espresso, rosé, and Aperol. Our stomachs full of baguettes, pain au chocolat, and tapenade. We walked the old narrow roads, explored the picturesque beach, missed the bus and hailed an Uber, hiked from the 12th-century commune of Éze—a mile and a half down to the metro—in our "fancy" clothes. We ate late dinners, went to Jazz clubs, swam in the Mediterranean on a 65-degree day, smoked cigarettes like the French, imprinted the sensations of the trip in our brains with the new Coldplay release, and soaked in the unknown.

Stepping into a foreign land takes effort, but what the experience and the destination demand is worth it.

I've spent my whole life feeling like a foreigner.

The language is different. The customs, unfamiliar. I've learned to translate, to adapt, to get by as if I belong. I've watched the way others move, speak, and work. I've reached into the depths of 'who I am' and tried to match the pace and volume, and I've misled all of you. The Artifice.

I'm an introvert living in an extrovert's world.

Because there are probably three times as many extroverts as introverts in our society, an introvert must learn extrovert skills in order to function well. But an extrovert can move into midlife never having had to develop introvert skills.
- Alice Fryling, Seeking God Together

For most of my life, I've mistaken less for less than.

Quiet meant weak.
Slow meant behind.
Simple meant shallow.
Still meant stuck.

This year I've been digging, and I'm beginning to have a few words as a result. Not many words—because many times (at least in my world) I think less is more, especially when it comes to words.

Quiet means steady.
Slow means methodical.
Simple means intentional.
Still means present.

And maybe you're not used to this world because you've never had to translate, to shrink, or adjust. Maybe less feels foreign to you.

Well, welcome to my world. Come with me for the next few weeks on a series of selected short poems spanning the last 15 years or so of my life.

Will you sit with me here for a while?
No need to say much.

Just be.