Rogue Planet

It is about 10 at night. Sitting in my bed, cross-legged (which makes an excellent table for my laptop), I am surrounded by the trappings of my very ordinary life: my daughter's homework papers, miscellaneous crayons (most broken and all blunted at the end by much use), my husband's dress shirt thrown across the end of the bed. All objects I see everyday. All objects that comfort me in their very connection to the lives of my family. All objects that make concrete for me the direction my life has taken.

At that epiphany, I draw in my breath, which I am sure is inaudible, because I am a bit ashamed of the feeling that sweeps over me. The direction my life has taken. It is at times like this that I feel foreign to myself, as if I float above the woman sitting on the bed, and I whisper, Who is that person? Is that me? Really?

Your 30s. I have found for me it is has been a period of analysis, inner change, and realization. At times I have reached my hands deep into dark places and have drawn up to the surface aspects about myself that had never seen the light before. At other times, I have wept for the things about myself that I felt growing smaller and smaller, like imploding stars. And I think now, it is these imploding stars, these hot, volatile cores of concentrated need, that have lead me here, to sitting down and writing this.

To be perfectly clear, I have a beautiful family: 2 beautiful daughters, a handsome son, and devoted husband. I have a nice home and a good job. I have an honorable profession that allows me to help other people. I have a love of God, and I thank Him everyday for His gifts. I have more than most, and probably do not deserve all that I have.

But, I have developed as of late, in my 30s, a need for something more. I feel something in me (and it is sometimes a physical feeling), that has been caged for too long. An avenue for creative release. And so, this blog came about at my husband's prompting. Thank goodness for me, he understands this longing I have. This longing to recapture parts of myself that I had put away in order to make room for first finishing school, then getting married and starting work, and finally starting a family.

Now, I rarely turn on the TV, but sometimes I will watch the History Channel. I prefer a good mummy show, but on one occasion, a program about the universe was on. In this particular episode, they were detailing atypical galactic masses. One of these was called a planemo. A planemo is a planet that doesn't have a star around which to revolve. These planets drift through space, of their own accord. How lonely, I thought, but such a perfect analogy to our lives as humans. At times we move through life aimlessly, without a guiding force or in dissolution, just as a planemo would. But other times, we come in contact with splendor. We graze by stars that throw their radiating light deep into space. We navigate through cold belts of asteroids. We are enveloped in rainbow clouds of strange gasses, and are drawn dangerously close to black holes. We are at times in the presence of awesome circumstances and at others we are on a dark path as if in a void. But always we are moving, moving from one celestial wonder or danger to another, always searching.

So, with this blog I hope to explore my journey. I hope that you will help me explore it and learn something about your journey, too. Because we all have one, and we might at some point pass each other in the night sky.