Humanness

I believe that the thing that really defines humanity is its ability to be dissatisfied. Eve was not satisfied with the fact that she got to walk and talk with God once the serpent had told her that she could have God's knowledge of good and evil. The Old Testament Jews were almost never satisfied with the covenant that God had made; they usually got impatient and turned back to their old ways.

And yet, here is a quote from Bill Vaughn that sums up another, more positive spin on that aspect:

A three year old child is a being who gets almost as much fun out of a fifty-six dollar set of swings as it does out of finding a small green worm.

Essentially, in the end, I think we all grasp the fact that life is what you make it. Why worry about what you DON'T have when you could be grateful for what you DO have? I think any rational adult could agree with that mindset and truly believe that is the healthiest attitude to have. Still, our very nature fights against contentment, and we are rarely satisfied with ourselves, our lives, or other people. Sure, you have a nice little house with a great 10-speed bike, but what you REALLY need is a three-story mansion with a Ferrari. And THEN you'll be set for life. Then you'll be content.

I find that I am perfectly content at the funniest times. I am so pleased to be by myself, walking in the rain, listening to a Jason Mraz song on the way to a graphic design class. I am joyful being amongst old friends, watching Firefly for the 10th time. I am content at church, watching people's reactions to one another and the genuine love that holds us all together. But even then, in those happy flashes of life, there is always this nagging at the back of your brain that Christianity likes to label as "sin" from "the fall." To me, it goes back to Eve...it seems almost programmed into us, this restlessness.

For me, it seems to culminate in my relationships. My worth is wrapped up in other people, yet it is completely separate from other people. I find that I am at my healthiest when I am alone. No one is there to doubt me, to distract me, to hurt me, to disappoint me. I am not constantly trying to please someone, not trying to read anyone's mind. Alone is easy. Being single is easy. I don't have to give anything and I am not depressed when someone doesn't give ME all of their love. I am a world unto myself, my own little self-contained light and happiness. It is God and me, living in my heart and my head, in a constant dialogue with what I see and feel and think. This is all well and good, but being the human that I am, I am dissatisfied.

I am dissatisfied because I was created by God to live in community. But even more than that, I yearn to understand someone almost as well as I understand myself. There is a closeness that I saw emanated from my parents, from the lovers I observed walking hand in hand when I went to the park. Something that resonated in my very soul. I want to share a private glance with someone and in that split second know exactly what they mean. Who doesn't enjoy a great inside joke, or being able to explain another person's actions? "Oh yeah, that's Chelsea. Always with the paint on her face. She's pretty crazy sometimes, but that's what I like about her." Whether they acknowledge it or not, everyone wants that familiarity. And I've had that. But my own humanity, the thing that initially drew me to that other person, is what ruins the relationship.

Being with that other person is wonderful and you begin to get attached. You realize you're the happiest you've ever been. And then it starts. "You" begins to fade and "we" begins to take its place. The highs are fantastic, but the lows are crushing. You panic and try to become "you" again, try to be your own person. Each of you is trying to stay an individual by imposing your own standards and rules on the other person. Where do you compromise? Where do you stay "true to yourself?" What does that even mean? Love is selfless, is it not? Then why is there so much "self" involved? You find yourself flailing in the dark, terrified of being alone, being torn apart as you struggle to get closer while simultaneously pulling away. In the end, you are left wondering if it was even worth it. And then the cycle continues: You become comfortable being alone. So comfortable that you get this itch in your brain, that turns into a rash, that turns into an all-consuming desire to be close to someone again. The only thing that's consistent is that reliance in God and the dissatisfaction.

But one day, one day the wait will be worth it.