#042 - Beach

6.4.24

When I travel to South Alabama, I am constantly faced with a conundrum. You see, the hard-working people of the southern portion of the state where I was born intend to be slower-paced than I am used to living in my thriving metropolis-style hometown of Atlanta. In Atlanta, people drive fast and recklessly. I see zigging, zagging, and tumultuous traveling in Atlanta that should be featured in a Mad Max style road fury type movie. So when I travel and drive through slower-paced, quiet seaside towns such as the beach town where my parents are retired, I am reminded of this fact. It may be a big reason I become an agoraphobic vacationer when I visit down here. I don't want to disturb this peaceful existence with my urbanity.

Nostalgia beach trip.

My family has visited this particular beach for a family vacation every year. Sure, we would have fun on a national adventure to D.C., Denver, or Los Angeles, where my sister lived, but every year, without fail, we would spend a week down here. I say down here because I am writing this from beneath the stilted family homestead, sipping my Starbucks, watching the birds, and relaxing before the workday. It is tranquil and peaceful most days, and I love being outdoors. Nothing can ruin this—not even an annoying neighbor walking by or the construction workers who work in the early hours of the day. Most of our neighbors down here are excellent, though. Some can be less than neighborly, but you can't control who moves in next door.

In my life, I have always strived to be a Philadelphia Neighbor to the people around me. I struggle with this because of anxiety, and sometimes, the unfamiliarity of the situation causes this to triple, turning me into a hot mess of social awkwardness. This is okay, though, and makes my personality endearing to most. But it is when I put past this awkwardness and power through, as I am known for saying, this is when God rewards me with unexpected encounters and lifelong friends. When I break free from the bounds of myself, I can truly inspire those around me to be more significant. Ultimately, I hope to become a better person in the process.

Solitary confinement.

Isolation is hard. Talk to a prisoner who has been in solitary confinement, and they will tell you that being alone with your thoughts for that long is brutal. If you have read most of my blogs, you know I talk to everyone. My close friends know I always have to fill the silence with talking or communicating. It comes from my parents, especially my dad, who will converse with the gas pump while pumping gas. Lee, my bestie, laughs at me when I ramble and, luckily, is a great listener. Do you know a group of people who are great listeners, too? Perhaps a small group at your local church. Shameless plug, but you must go with the spirit when the spirit is flowing.

Life is distracting, though, as the garbage truck pulls up to empty the trash, and my mind tangents. Where was I? Right, I was rambling about being alone with your thoughts. I love being alone with my thoughts. I don't mind spending days alone, but I still communicate constantly through texting, social media, and (gasp) phone/facetime calls. I talk to my parents at least once a week. Me and my bestie make a point to call each other every couple of days. My Titans and I keep in touch through various methods, including Snapchat streaks. Anything to keep the connection going. Maybe not a thriving connection, but one based on quality, not quantity.

So, are we humans ever truly alone? Is it possible for us to be disconnected in this highly connected world? As I've written before, Christians are hilariously connected, so if you are one, your life is always connected to the source, and the source will always draw you near, much like a moth to a flame.

Mothman.

I'm terrified of moths and would not like to share that with the world. However, it is not a weakness, and I can overcome my fears, so don't try to put me in a situation where I have to confront a bunch of moths. Hilariously, too, I am deathly afraid of large groups of people I do not know because I want to get to know everyone on a deep, meaningful personal level. One of my pastor friends lamented to me in a green room that it was the hardest thing about stepping into a leadership role at his church: it is a near impossibility to accomplish this. Sure, you can know a tight inner circle personally and maybe hundreds in your outer circle, but sometimes, when you are in a position of power and influence, it is difficult to connect on a personal and meaningful level. Can Taylor get to know all the Swifties personally?

But she can pander. She can hit the chords and, with her music, meaningfully and personally speak to a generation of girls and guys. Artists communicate more with their work than they do with meaningful personal encounters. The ability to connect with a work of art is transformative. I can separate some artists' art from the sometimes less-than-perfect people we all can be. So my question is, does your art attract people like a moth to a flame or an uneaten piece of upholstery or clothing? Are you an artist?

Putting it together.

A connected human thrives, while a disconnected human atrophies. An isolated artist thrives, though creating art for none but themselves is living a selfish existence. So, my challenge is creating and sharing in safe forums, and if others see or appreciate the creator's beauty through their creation, then that is on them. Critics will always be critical, so it is up to you and me to fight back with art, but not listening to the critics would be unwise. So my next thought would be, who in your life is critical? And what are they trying to say? To steal a phrase from Andy Stanley, pay attention to the tension.

But what life and creation are to me is art. God gave us a beautiful planet, so walk around today enjoying creation and the creator's art—encouragement for your future and mine.