"Till we have faces"

I am halfway through a weeklong business trip in London. My days have gone by extraordinarily fast, and have felt very easy and straightforward. I spent last week in Stockholm, and had a marvelous time just taking in the cool Scandinavian air and being on the rivers there.

I have experienced a full range of emotions in the course of this week, though. I cried in Sweden because I saw something that made me happy and hopeful. I was furious at somebody for a day, and had to pray for that anger to subside. It did. I felt a bit inadequate in the presence of some old friends, and very proud to be reconnected with others. I reflected on how differently we lived...and how much of that difference was rooted in where we came from, and what we were born into. I also felt very thankful that I do live the way that I do. And while standing on the shores of Waxholm, far away from the busyness of urban life, I felt very much at peace.

I don't know what to make of this trip. It's been a blessing to be so far-removed from ordinary life...feels like I've left it on the table and am able to look at it from a different vantage point. But I'm surprised that ordinary life is still with me. I originally thought that I'd be able to just press "pause" and go explore a different life for a while, but that hasn't happened. A lot of what I think about still connects the present with the past. It's not bad, per se, just not what I expected. Feels different from some of my other journeys.

...I'm still singing about ordinary days.

Tonight I will go to Harrod's and buy a tin of mints for a friend, and probably many packages of milk chocolate digestives for myself. I'm still amazed at how much enjoyment I get out of those digestives, or A&W root beers, or Gilette Cool Wave shower gel, or Chinese soymilk...far more than some exotic Michelin star meal. They don't cost me much, but I thoroughly enjoy those times when I can break them out and use them to celebrate. Almost as if having them in intermittance prevents me from taking them for granted, so that every encounter is something familiar, something treasured, something that reminds me why I fell in love with them in the first place.

I own a scent that I bought nine years ago. I still only use it for grand occasions. It brings me joy.

I still harbor some twisted, secret satisfaction from looking utterly ordinary in everyday life, and surprising everybody with something extraordinarily grand about myself every so often.

I don't know why that's part of my makeup. I like being a diamond in the rough. For the longest time, I took some smug satisfaction in saying "I don't dance"...then being able to say, "I didn't say I couldn't!". (I stole that schtick straight from Jughead)

I don't know if it's a good thing. Certainly makes it easier to be humble...I get far more satisfaction out of surprising people than I do out of showing off. I wonder if that's why I love bargains, too...I'm far more satisfied by finding value in something that most others cannot see than I am in having something that everyone desires.

But I sometimes fear that my love for surprise subconsciously makes me more subdued than others...almost as if I hide who I am so that it's all the more of a surprise when I come into full bloom. And as of late, I can't help but think that everybody interprets my many stories of great bargains as signals of my social class and of me being a miser.

I don't think of myself as one...

Late in elementary school, one of our Chinese texts was something called "The Character of Peanuts". It talked about how peanuts dug deep into the earth, hiding themselves from view until it was time to bear fruit. I think a lot of Jesus, the thief in the night, too. I romanticize the notion of receiving and giving grand gifts...things that are not expected and are valued in significance rather than currency.

My dear reader, have I lived up to this image I have of myself? I know that I have in some ways, but also that I haven't, in others.

Oh, what a peculiar life this is...