Melted mirage.
Part I
Let’s take it back. After years of trying to forget the disorienting limbo following my final semester at university, I relistened to the song I wrote in the thick of it: Youth. Taking in the lyrics again, I am not surprised — only reminded — of how lost I had felt.
Slow motion falling to softer ground.
Wide awake somehow. Aware now.
Which direction to the great escape?
Hopping the cautious tape.
Are you coming with me?
I remember the all-consuming determination to leave — to search, discover, and find — or what I now call an inclination to ponder. If you have this quality, you must know the call: The Call of Truth. (Jer 29:13)
There was a stirring in my soul which had always been there, but by 2021, it had appreciably outgrown the tiny temporary home I had given it when I left the prolific soil of my childhood and moved south to the sands of Santa Barbara. This “starter pot” of my passion was a plastic, rust-colored thing, and it was destined to be replaced. We had traveled even to Singapore, Vietnam, Thailand, Indonesia, Malaysia, and South Korea together; and all along, the seedling grew, waiting to be released from the shadowy corners of my life. Now, undeniably, it was time to repot and re-root. (Ps 42:2-3)
A few weeks later, I would find myself in the Czech forests, in stone castles, around a crackling campfire, and experiencing a mysterious belonging in a land I had only just set foot in. My restlessness took a rest as I took in the possibility of an alternate reality.
Our toes at the edge of the dock.
It’s a shallow lake. Empty lawn chairs.
Is this the place? Will we make happy happen here?
See, I had been drowning in a dense swamp of delusion. Voluntarily adopting lies, erasing my identity with mass absurdity, and allowing the insidious overtaking of my integrity. We all were; and we were all so young. Something dark was after us, relishing our newfound independence as a chance to eclipse our light and reason. Promised pleasure, we followed obliviously while it slithered tighter and tighter circles around us until we couldn’t breathe, let alone communicate.
But something else in me knew I had to escape this invisible chokehold before it was too late. I could already barely find the spark in my own eyes staring into a stranger’s bathroom mirror. Numbness in the valley, but bright sky if I would only look up. So, I began climbing. I ran. (Mt 6:33)
The second I summited, I was fiercely confronted, shaken from my comfort. My ‘new’ Bohemian cousin — with the courage of a lion and the care of a big brother — was unafraid to challenge me. And that was exactly what I needed. Tough love. I don’t know if he realized it at the time, but his unreserved honesty was water for the starving seed in my soul. The mirage began to melt.
What do you believe? What do you stand for? Do you really think that? Why?
For three warm summer weeks, we travelled around the countryside, sleeping by rivers, dancing at folk festivals, drinking uncle’s homemade honeyed wine, and I slowly caught onto a few Czech phrases. It felt like another world — and it really was to me. I opened my heart and saw it had been calibrated to seek truth, authenticity, and understanding.
Wisdom is radiant and unfading,
and she is easily discerned by those who love her,
and is found by those who seek her.
- Wis 6:12
My new life was on the horizon and I was colored with curiosity.
———
I could go on and on writing about that beginning, a summer of escape. But for today, this is the sliver. If you’d like me to write a Part II? Please leave a comment. Maybe I’ll see you there. Thank you, as always, for reading and pondering with me. 🤍
Peacefully,
Solée
