I pull into the desert town at sunset feeling empty. I felt empty the whole drive from Los Angeles and hoped that my arrival would alleviate the emptiness, so when the emptiness is not alleviated, not even momentarily (all emptiness-alleviators are temporary), I feel emptier.
“Help me not be empty,” I say to god in the Best Western parking lot.
Since I don’t turn to god very often, I feel self-conscious when I do. I’m not sure what I’m allowed to ask for, and I worry that I shouldn’t want the things I want. Are my requests too specific? I should probably ask to simply be happy doing god’s will, though I’ve heard it said that when you’re doing god’s will you feel like you’re flowing with a great river, not against it, so it seems like the happy feeling should just come naturally.
Earlier today, a friend texted me a quote by Kierkegaard: “Life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced.”
Ordinarily, I’d do nothing more than mark this kind of text message with a heart, maybe respond with the word yesss, and move on. But because of the low place I’ve been in, I saw the quote as a life raft, as though I were a small version of me adrift in a bowl of milk and the quote was the lone Cheerio I had to grab onto.
Halfway between LA and the desert town, I stopped at a…