I’m sitting here looking at my desk that looks a lot like the inside of my mind, a total mess. Stuff is all over the place, a couple of pencils in various stages of being sharpened, a pen that is probably out of ink, several tabs of yellow, lined paper, with my scribblings. The reality is that if you were to look at my desk and see the chaos unfolding before your eyes it would give you insight into my own, messy, way of thinking. In fact my desk is a visual representation of my Meyers-Briggs personality, that wonderful confusion of being an INFP, that introverted mass of congealed emotions residing beneath a thin crust of humanity. My poor mind works in flashes, like a storm off in the distance where lightening brightens up the dark clouds as it moves along the horizon. Just like those storms, I never know when one of those flashes will suddenly illuminate the scenery where I can see clearly, the downside comes when the flash is over and the landscape becomes dark again. What was once a clear, bright thought gets all muddled in with everything else. I’m left to peer into the dark patches trying to piece together what I thought I saw or imagined, wondering if it was all just an illusion, a dream that faded as quickly as dew in the morning.
Just now, I’m looking at several objects that reside on the desktop, a chalice and paten next to a crucifix, now that’s a story right there. There is a yo-yo, next to a paperweight, with a gargoyle standing guard at the edge. Pictures in frames, my wife holding her granddaughter, a small bundle in her arms, her own face lit up, beaming with grandmotherly love. The other is a black and white picture of her with the boys when they were young. One of them has his arm draped on her shoulder, the other is lying back on to her chest, all watching something. In that photo, in that brief moment captured and now frozen, I see the love that binds us together. All of these objects hold so many memories and even though the landscape may look confusing to some, it all makes sense in my own interior chaos.
The reality is that this desktop is my created wilderness, a place where each day I can explore those places where my heart resides. The spaces in between become highways into the soul, the books stacked one upon another are the mountains and valleys of my life’s journey. Bits and pieces of objects become way stations, stopping points to ponder all that is seeking a place in the wilderness of my mind. Rocky outcroppings that I grab onto as I climb up and over each obstacle that is placed in my way. The emotional trek into the human world where joy and suffering walk hand in hand vying for attention, all while the world looks away too busy to notice.
Someday, this chaos will all make sense but even making that statement reminds me that having everything make sense is not the point. The point is to live fully and faithfully each day knowing that the chaos will come, objects both physical and emotional, will be out there ready to ambush us at the next turn.