It is not quite there, this time of year and my mind unspooling to measure a narrative of progress against the backdrop of a year. But is getting close. My main reflection is on the spiritual nature of objects and my relationship to them.
Recently, my black crossover vehicle gave up the ghost about half a mile from my house on a weekend night. I pushed it home to my driveway, receiving help from two strangers. One was dressed in suit and tie along the main road where my car stalled. The second was a man of the road who helped me for a section of a side street before begging off as he was needing to catch his bus. I didn't get the opportunity to thank either of them properly, but was very grateful for their providential help in my forty five minutes of need. Once I reached my driveway, I realized that I could not cut the curb the way I wished in order to park my car safely on my property. I looked across the street and remembered that the neighbor had introduced himself on Mother's Day and we exchanged numbers. So I called on him and explained my issue. He responded and gave me a helping hand to back up and successfully get momentum to put it on the edge of my drive.
It is inglorious to have a need. But it is a very human quality, and builds trust. I tend to enjoy the opportunity to lend a hand more than I do in receiving that hand from others. It stings my pride and dignity when I don't get the time to build a good reason for why I can justify my need for help. And yet God kinda works that way, in that I don't think I can technically give Him something He doesn't already rightfully possess. But I think God humors me on occasion and on others, gets to humor Himself when I scramble a little and realize that I can either accept help or keep my false image of being self-sufficient. I have been pleased by the analogy "No man is an island, but many of us want to be peninsulas." To limit the exposure by which I can be surprised, approached, and either attacked or provisioned.
Alas, humility is an ever evolving lesson for me. My calves were feeling the burn of trying to do it myself and I was chagrined, but grateful that I had the opportunity to connect with my neighbor for a legitimate reason. I am new to the idea of having neighbors and establishing that friendly level of trust and mutual investment.
On a related note of growth, I want to talk about my relationship to my car. It was a 2009 Subaru Forester. I found it on Meta Marketplace two years ago from a guy who did his own maintenance on it. It had under a 100K miles, the interior was cloth, the console had an aftermarket stereo with a gap above it that had not been filled with a cubby or faceplate. Also, the guy happened to spill oil in the trunk by accident. But nevertheless, I was optimistic as the brand's make has a loyal following for its hardiness and durability. What I didn't know was that the previous owner had pulled the engine and had installed a bracket mount upside down, which rattled the engine up like a milkshake. And it could not outshake that Legacy even with it being a Subaru. The car became a gradual Ship of Theseus, with engine parts being replaced over time as I had the ability to take it to be repaired. Its catalytic converter was in bad shape, and I didn't feel like ante'ing up to replace it, opting instead to feed it a gradual diet of fuel intake cleaners in the hope that the "cat" would cough up the blockage eventually. But in the meantime, this issue caused my dash light to complain and cascaded a fault to preventing me from using cruise or traction control.
I considered this under the lens of the car being an extension of myself and my issues. I too prided myself for trying to live up to a reputation for being stable and able to be all wheel drive. I too never felt comfortable in my faith allowing for a system to put my life in cruise mode or trusting that the ground beneath me would not have the rug pulled out if I didn't continually monitor. And finally, I too was a person whose internal dash was constantly anxious that something might be wrong, even when the ride seemed to be performing fine without any glaring errors. And it ended up that the only way I would accept that things were indeed "not okay", was when my internal dash lit up like a Christmas tree and paralyzed my progress, forcing me to sit down and evaluate the possibilities that I ignored warning signs and would have to go through a checklist to see where I went wrong and see if I could make it back to "right".
I couldn't make it right. So, I had to trust in God's wisdom and lean into my other theme this year: how to gracefully let things leave my life, being grateful for the time I had with them without being bitter that it could not continue indefinitely.
I am probably going to write an end of year letter again with some of these themes I am reflecting upon here, through the lens of other events that have occurred this year. But I am so, so grateful for the person I am becoming. Because, letting things go has not always come naturally to me. I think a lot of the song "Looking Too Closely" by Fink. How it came into my life as a free download promotion, yet resonates despite the fact that I have not bothered to explore the rest of the band's catalog. Sometimes, I understand that I don't need to know everything to accept that the small piece I have in hand is enough for now. Like manna, I am learning to appreciate my daily bread in the Lord's Prayer.
The title of this piece is inspired by me gradually making food on my stovetop inside a pan. I bought a nice new combined set of kitchen tools, including a flipping spatula that was sturdy and strong. But most of the time, I am reaching for a cheap and flexible version that I found at a thrift store. It feels less formal and has a greater level of comfort for me. If the cheap spatula gets scuffed up, I can just flex and scrub it harder in the sink. And it is nice to have that internal relationship of trust with tools. Some of them I treat with such hesitancy, that I never fully realize their utility to me, as I am uncertain that I will not mess it up and be bummed out about it. And I realize there can be a perverse tendency in me to treat people like objects and objects like people. I am trying to live consciously in challenging these tendencies by being more exploratory in how I find uses for tools and how I interact with other people. Relationships to both have the possibility of becoming multi-dimensional, and it takes time and patience to internalize and appreciate that.
