Well, here we are. Third day in Canterbury. I'll writing in my more personal blog because at the moment I'm not sure whats going on inside me. I've intended to write every few days and keep a constant reflection going, but that obviously hasn't happened.
Truth be told, for some reason I'm feeling the bluntness of being single. I don't know why. No clue. At the moment I'm pretty tired and hungry and just overall feelling weighed down by something in my heart and my throat. Well, I think it may related to being single, that's what it normally is. It could be something else and maybe through writing I'll uncover something.
Maybe for some reason I actually expected something to happen. I know, its stupid and I hope to God that no one I know actually reads this thing. I guess, I have a thing for my CouchSurfing host Mark. He's a gay priest here in Canterbury. Now, truth be told I have not been looking for anything since I've been in Europe. I mean, yeah I made out with a guy in Paris and hooked up with another guy but I haven't been looking for or expecting something cliche and serious to come about from my travels so far. I guess that it would make sense that that singleness "plauge" which still seems to plauge the back of my mind would pop its ugly head in. Priest, pretty cute, gay. IF that turned int something then that would be super cliche, but super cool. But if I'm honest with myself I have to acknowledge that I've only met this guy yesterday.
I guess maybe I had hoped for a further healing during this trip like what I had back in San Francisco. The kind of healing where God gives me a big boost and I am just that much closer to being a more whole person, created in God's image and living and thriving as I ought to me. I still believe that this could happen. I also acknowledge that much of my healing this year has been over a period of time, learning to trust in God in ways I've never had to before and acknowledge God's presence within me, esspecailly in moments like this.
Getting this out feels better.
So what triggered? I think it might be the fact that Tessa invited me to a movie tonight. I told her I might be at St. Dunstan's tonight and she said we could go after. I guess I had hopped that Mark might join us when I brought it up.
Ugh. I feel so neurotic. Really. It's pathetic. At times I wonder if there actually anyone else in the world who has these moments or if its really just me. At the same time, I need to realize that I need to be gentle with myself and let God be gentle with me.
What does being gentle mean? I don't know. Just acklowledging that I am human, frail at times, and that I can only rely on God's grace to become whole.
Well, I told Tessa I would see her at the healing service at St. Dunstan's. Mark will be preaching and presiding. I almost wonder if I should go now. Possible conflict of interest on my end, you know, having a tiny crush on my host. However, the more I write and think the more my mind is clear and that reality is that it is just a minor crush, flighting infactuation resulting from the fact that I've been intimately attention starved for so long and now instead of looking to be a relationship "savior" I'm looking to be saved. I'll go to the service. Who knows, I didn't plan on going to the Labyinth walk in SF and look what happened.
Through out this trip so far I think I've prayed most that I would find God present in the vulnerable. Maybe this is the next stage for something? I keep recalling from Lecto Divina last month that when Jesus is near, the demons will act out. Is that what is happening here? Are my demons getting rallied up because God is about to show up and do something awesome? Either way, I trust that everytime I sit in God's presence, or take Eucharist, or pray that I recieve the grace and mercy that I need, whether I feel it or not. And that will be my prayer for the remainder of my stay in Canterbury, until I felt moved to change my prayer focus.
Sunday, November 9, 2014
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
It all starts with a song
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</html>As promised, I'm going to start writing/blogging weekly. I know all the experts on writing say to write at a specific place and a specific time, but my schedule can't bend that way. Chances are anything I write, as usual, will be at night, outside, with ciggarettes and lighter handy (except for this night where its wine with a plate of cheese and apples).
I've also been making a point to get more cardio in during the week. Tonight instead of listening to my usual Metro Station Station I went for the genertic running station and this song came up. I can't get enough of it. Yes, it's country (ish) and for those who know me well enough know that I kinda despise most country of any variation. But this, this I'm completely digging. It's catchy and passion different. I suppose it makes me become nostalgia of passion driven songs from summers past. You know, the oh so cliche oh so called "summer of love". Long nights, long make outs, long drives...you get the idea. I could be a bit bitter on some level that those are gone, long gone. But at the same time it's just as well: I'm not that mostly naive kid who used to think that he almost had everything he ever wanted or needed in a man. I'm not going to get hung up on guys who are emotionally unavailable, or taken, or otherwise. Those guys are gone and what remains is one man who has finally discovered a part of himself and deems that part so special, so precious, that it is worth being selfish over for the time being. Let me explain.
I've been on a travel kick. It's started slowly a few years ago and has gained momentum this year. The climax was when I was in San Francisco last January. In some ways my get-a-ways to the Bay Area have been the healings I needed. A few years back I had a powerful confession experience at Grace Cathedral, I may talk about that later, but the setting of scene returns to the Cathedral. It was Friday, and I had just finished a walking tour of China Town. I had been to the Cathedral the past two days and didn't want to wear it out, but it was on my way back to the Hostel so I stopped in for Evening Prayer. There I ran into a friend whom I had met the day prior, he asked me if I had planned to stay for the Candle Light Labrynth walk. Being a guy who can't say no, I said sure. Of course, I've walked labrynths before, but never in a group. There were about 200 people gathered in a darkened cathedral whose light was only emitted from candles on the floor and on the wall, listening to a soprano singing chants similar to Hildegard Von Bingen with the piano. I walked. I wasn't sure what I was asking God for. I was in a bit of a rut; school was starting in just a few weeks and I had no idea what I was going to do. I couldn't return full time, but not returning at all such seemed an option which would be that of a failure. I walked.I started to feel something in me which I would later realize to be stagnantcy of my life. I walked. I grew frustrated and started to give God a piece of my mind like it was Fiddler on the Roof. I finished the walk, and withdrew to the side of the nave, grabbing a kneeling cushion to sit on. I took out my rosary, and began to pray the Jesus Prayer. I let the words drift in and out of my consciousness for about 20 minutes when I started to cry. And I mean cry. I hadn't cried like that in years, and I did so for about 20 more minutes. I didn't pray with words, and words didn't come into my head, though I was hoping maybe God would prompt some priest to come to my aid and sort all this out, this was a special moment. This was mine. I knew I was being healed of something I had let plague me for so, so long. Of what I had no clue. After, I helped Brian clean up and he and I went out for a beer. I ended up going back to the hostel and had intentions of going to bed. But instead ended up going drinking with this pretty hot German guy and a guy from Hong Kong and got pretty drunk. Anyway. I left that Cathedral a different man.
I haven't realized what happened in San Francisco until recently. When I look at the months that followed I noticed that I have been more okay and accepting of myself that I ever have been. The nights falling asleep wondering where he is or what his day was like, or feeling lonely and left out at the sight of a very happy and very hot gay couple have been so minimal. And it wasn't until after my last Spiritual Direction session that I realized that I God has been on my side this whole time and that I am worth more than what I can imagine.
I met this guy Matt last spring. He's from LA, and he came up and stayed for a few days. He's a great catch. Super handsome, funny, goals, good kisser and otherwise. I noticed though in the weeks to come after we met that I wasn't obsessing over him like I normally would for great guys. For one, I have to admit that this spring was the busiest I've ever had on record. Gigs and rehearsals. Including my normal work hours I was putting in 50+ hour weeks. Granted, it paid for my plane tickets to Europe. Who knows, maybe I'll be able to make it down and catch Disney if I can swing it. I haven't been out of town since I went to Cambria in March and I feel my soul starting to implode a bit from it. Who knows, maybe that cliche summer of love is still on the horizon. I've been laying pretty low the past few weeks since summer has started. Mainly just trying to take care of my pysche and give myself the extra help that I'll need to avoid summer insomnia/depression. So yeah, I've been exercising and writing and reading, doing all the things my introverted self needs to do. I know, I'll boost my social and extroverted self soon enough before my feelers start to get weak from lack of conversation.
What it comes down to is this: I find myself when I travel. This has always been the case though I'm just now realizing it. I have the opportunity to be myself fully. Not that I wear a mask often, I'm pretty transparent in that regard (at least I like to think that I am). And now that I'm grown up enough to see the world on my own I've got to do it. If I can spend a month in Europe and come out ruined, scathed, excited to do it again, then I can definitley muster up the courage to leave Bakersfield. I've got something special going on here and deep down I know this work isn't done.
I know deep down that the next one is the one. He will give himself to me in ways that I can't fathom. We will fight over my inability to sensitive to what his needs may be or his inability to slow the fuck down and think. But we'll make it work, and be happy. But right now, I'm not ready to give my self up like that, or even head down that road. For once, for once in my fucking life its not about me being okay with being single; its about me being okay with me and finally running with it.
Thursday, May 22, 2014
There and back again, and then there again
It's been awhile. I'm hoping to get back on this this summer to keep my mind clear and my heart grounded. The past two summers have been the most unproductive summers of my life. Two common themes: insomnia and depression. Last summer was bad enough to where I didn't shake out of it until mid-way through the fall semester. All I did was work, sleep, and do a lot of nothing. The only perk I had was in July when we moved into St Paul's and I lost myself in chancel prancing, sacristy scouring, and lituristics, even that wore off after the first month. Point is, I don't want to experience that again. I want to sleep, I want to live. REALLY live. Now that the symphony season has ended and the gigs are at a slight halt I should in theory have time this summer to do some living. Finish up projects, go biking, hiking, beer tasting.
I feel so complete when I write. Its one of those instances where St Paul pops into my head asking why don't I do the things that are good for me? Great question, Paul. When I write the clutter in my head becomes so much more organized. Hopefully I will make this a weekly priority because updating this thing since the last update might be a bitch.
I've decided that I cannot go back to Bakersfield College. I just can't. In my off and on 10 year education plan I've learned what to do, what not to do, and what I can get away with. Unfortunately everything I shouldn't have done shows on my transcript and I've been paying the price for it. I'm only a few years from actually finishing the associates, but I have intents on grad school and there is just no way I can let this transcript follow me. That's the reason the world needs to know. The real reason is the fact that I'm over it. I'm over that college. I just can't do it anyone more and there is no way to say in any real detail. My gut just twists over the thought of going back. I need a fresh start. The plan is to enroll in Taft College next spring with two priorities in mind. One, I only took one year of foreign language in high school, so I need to take two semesters so I can get into a University. Two, I need to just bite the bullet and get stats out of the way. I'm teaching myself algebra this year so when it comes time to take the assessment test I should be able to test directly into stats. After that, the world is my oyster as far I see it.
There is this growing elephant in the room which needs to be addressed before the year is out. Last year my Grandma and I talked. She had offers from her kids to stay with them up in Redding or down in Pasadena. The plan was is that I would finish up at BC by next year and the move the house out. I'd start over on my own while she would be with family. Well, plans on my end have changed. I don't intend on finish my associates at Taft. I'm just going to take a few classes I need to get me by in the meantime then move to San Francisco. I've thought about it ever since I stayed up there last January. I'll either finish the associates at San Francisco City College, or go straight to CSUSF. It's about time I joined the billions of other students in debt to student loans anyway.
What is all comes down to is this: the past few years my life has felt so stagnant. I've grown very little, settled for very little, and have gotten very comfortable. I could spend hours beating myself up for the fact that I'm pushing 30 and in this situation, but the fact is I'm here and I need to get out and do something new. Deep down I feel I require so much self maintenance not so much because I'm the next Thomas Merton (runner up, maybe) but for the fact that I'm not doing what I'm supposed to be doing. It's like I'm a car with a broken cylinder being nursed by a little bit of duct tape.
I had two new years resolutions this year. One, to drink more. Two, get out of town for a few days every few months. I haven't had the chance to do the latter and I'm hoping to in a few weeks. When I travel I feel free, free to take off the mask, take risks, and go about with wide eyes over the fact that I am where ever I am and it is completely new. This leads me to my next paragraph. I'm leaving the country for a month in November.
I'm leaving the country for a month in November.
It all started when I stayed at the Bridge Street Inn Hostel in Cambria. Well, lets back up. First of all, I'm sold on hosteling. A boyfriend of mine invited me to stay at Point Montara, 30 miles South of San Francisco. A light house hostel in 2010. It was three days of cliche. Hand in hand on the beach, crepes for breakfast, afternoon naps, swapping stories of damaging relationships, sunny skies, shrimp and wine for dinner, did I mention the crepes? The relationship didn't last (his first boyfriend, long distance, you know) but my intrigue of hostels stayed. I went back two years later and stayed so I could frequent San Francisco. I stayed at two more hostels in the city a year later (last January). How neat it would be, I thought to work at one of these places. The constant meeting of new people, hearing stories (like how my German friend's buddy got a DUI and was kicked out of the country), drinking with strangers, and knowing that you would be a direct impact on a persons travel experience. So, in Cambria I asked the workers what it was like. One guy was from Michigan who played guitar, the other was from Austrailia who played the digery-doo (I know I know...). They were volunteering at the hostel for a month as interns. I talked to the owner who found her interns through work-away, and organization where people can find work exchange for room and board situations. I was so exited by the idea with some much possibility. I ended up signing up for HelpX, a similar organization. I wanted to go to Ireland. I scored the site for all the hostels, homesteads, and farms that I could potentially work at. A month out of the country is all I would need. Turns out though upon further research that I need a work holiday visa, which would require me having $4000 in my bank account as proof to the Irish Embassy that I could make it in their country. So since then my plans have changed. I'm going to backpack it. A few days in Paris, a few days in Taize, take the train to London for a week, then up to Scotland, then over to Dublin. I might end up doing a whole blog specific to that trip. As of now, I'm barley going to make it happen. But I've got my heart so set on this trip that it HAS to happen. They say do it before your 30. This will be my precursor to leaving Bakersfield.
A year ago I was bitching about the woes of being single. Now, I can't see it any other way. On the upper hand of my situation I'm not tied down to this location on the planet. I don't have overwhelming responsibilities. Bakersfield hasn't been terrible to me. My church, the symphony, and my close friends have kept me relatively sane. Should I come back they will always be there. But for now, I'd rather show them off through story-telling in some place that just isn't here.
Spiritually, I'm doing okay. My Spiritual Director recommended me "The Great Work of your Life" by Stephen Cope. The books deals with finding a persons dharma (true work, vocation, calling ect) through the Gita while paring it with stories of well known people who found their Dharma, and people who were searching for it. In my situation I think I am starting to see that I don't have to maintain myself in order to "do" but can maintain myself by "doing". Its like for the first time in a long time I can see God walking with me. Not pushing me, not yelling at me to catch up, but actually present. At this point I am still not sure if I am called to serve as a priest. But I am excited to feel like I'm on a path to something even though I have no clue what the hell that is.
I feel so complete when I write. Its one of those instances where St Paul pops into my head asking why don't I do the things that are good for me? Great question, Paul. When I write the clutter in my head becomes so much more organized. Hopefully I will make this a weekly priority because updating this thing since the last update might be a bitch.
I've decided that I cannot go back to Bakersfield College. I just can't. In my off and on 10 year education plan I've learned what to do, what not to do, and what I can get away with. Unfortunately everything I shouldn't have done shows on my transcript and I've been paying the price for it. I'm only a few years from actually finishing the associates, but I have intents on grad school and there is just no way I can let this transcript follow me. That's the reason the world needs to know. The real reason is the fact that I'm over it. I'm over that college. I just can't do it anyone more and there is no way to say in any real detail. My gut just twists over the thought of going back. I need a fresh start. The plan is to enroll in Taft College next spring with two priorities in mind. One, I only took one year of foreign language in high school, so I need to take two semesters so I can get into a University. Two, I need to just bite the bullet and get stats out of the way. I'm teaching myself algebra this year so when it comes time to take the assessment test I should be able to test directly into stats. After that, the world is my oyster as far I see it.
There is this growing elephant in the room which needs to be addressed before the year is out. Last year my Grandma and I talked. She had offers from her kids to stay with them up in Redding or down in Pasadena. The plan was is that I would finish up at BC by next year and the move the house out. I'd start over on my own while she would be with family. Well, plans on my end have changed. I don't intend on finish my associates at Taft. I'm just going to take a few classes I need to get me by in the meantime then move to San Francisco. I've thought about it ever since I stayed up there last January. I'll either finish the associates at San Francisco City College, or go straight to CSUSF. It's about time I joined the billions of other students in debt to student loans anyway.
What is all comes down to is this: the past few years my life has felt so stagnant. I've grown very little, settled for very little, and have gotten very comfortable. I could spend hours beating myself up for the fact that I'm pushing 30 and in this situation, but the fact is I'm here and I need to get out and do something new. Deep down I feel I require so much self maintenance not so much because I'm the next Thomas Merton (runner up, maybe) but for the fact that I'm not doing what I'm supposed to be doing. It's like I'm a car with a broken cylinder being nursed by a little bit of duct tape.
I had two new years resolutions this year. One, to drink more. Two, get out of town for a few days every few months. I haven't had the chance to do the latter and I'm hoping to in a few weeks. When I travel I feel free, free to take off the mask, take risks, and go about with wide eyes over the fact that I am where ever I am and it is completely new. This leads me to my next paragraph. I'm leaving the country for a month in November.
I'm leaving the country for a month in November.
It all started when I stayed at the Bridge Street Inn Hostel in Cambria. Well, lets back up. First of all, I'm sold on hosteling. A boyfriend of mine invited me to stay at Point Montara, 30 miles South of San Francisco. A light house hostel in 2010. It was three days of cliche. Hand in hand on the beach, crepes for breakfast, afternoon naps, swapping stories of damaging relationships, sunny skies, shrimp and wine for dinner, did I mention the crepes? The relationship didn't last (his first boyfriend, long distance, you know) but my intrigue of hostels stayed. I went back two years later and stayed so I could frequent San Francisco. I stayed at two more hostels in the city a year later (last January). How neat it would be, I thought to work at one of these places. The constant meeting of new people, hearing stories (like how my German friend's buddy got a DUI and was kicked out of the country), drinking with strangers, and knowing that you would be a direct impact on a persons travel experience. So, in Cambria I asked the workers what it was like. One guy was from Michigan who played guitar, the other was from Austrailia who played the digery-doo (I know I know...). They were volunteering at the hostel for a month as interns. I talked to the owner who found her interns through work-away, and organization where people can find work exchange for room and board situations. I was so exited by the idea with some much possibility. I ended up signing up for HelpX, a similar organization. I wanted to go to Ireland. I scored the site for all the hostels, homesteads, and farms that I could potentially work at. A month out of the country is all I would need. Turns out though upon further research that I need a work holiday visa, which would require me having $4000 in my bank account as proof to the Irish Embassy that I could make it in their country. So since then my plans have changed. I'm going to backpack it. A few days in Paris, a few days in Taize, take the train to London for a week, then up to Scotland, then over to Dublin. I might end up doing a whole blog specific to that trip. As of now, I'm barley going to make it happen. But I've got my heart so set on this trip that it HAS to happen. They say do it before your 30. This will be my precursor to leaving Bakersfield.
A year ago I was bitching about the woes of being single. Now, I can't see it any other way. On the upper hand of my situation I'm not tied down to this location on the planet. I don't have overwhelming responsibilities. Bakersfield hasn't been terrible to me. My church, the symphony, and my close friends have kept me relatively sane. Should I come back they will always be there. But for now, I'd rather show them off through story-telling in some place that just isn't here.
Spiritually, I'm doing okay. My Spiritual Director recommended me "The Great Work of your Life" by Stephen Cope. The books deals with finding a persons dharma (true work, vocation, calling ect) through the Gita while paring it with stories of well known people who found their Dharma, and people who were searching for it. In my situation I think I am starting to see that I don't have to maintain myself in order to "do" but can maintain myself by "doing". Its like for the first time in a long time I can see God walking with me. Not pushing me, not yelling at me to catch up, but actually present. At this point I am still not sure if I am called to serve as a priest. But I am excited to feel like I'm on a path to something even though I have no clue what the hell that is.
Monday, March 3, 2014
Issues of the heart
God. It's been too long. Way too long. I've been meaning to pay more attention to this the past few months but I guess its taken something major...well kinda major to get me back on the blog. Sure, I've some spiritual development and changes, and I'll make note of those in time to come.
But for now I'll turn the spotlight on to Matt. I met Matt though Andrew's boyfriend, who met him in the app world last November. He thought I might like him, so he sent Matt my number and we started talking last Monday. We talked for 6 hours that night, 4 hours the next. He then came up to see me and stayed Thursday through Saturday morning. I really like the guy. He is super sweet and friendly. Visually he is exactly what I go for, I mean. Wow. Really. I get this faint sense that I should already know him, or have known him longer than a week. He's a great kisser too and the sexual chemistry is very promising. At the moment the only real downfall (just a small detail I forgot to mention) is that he lives down south. Yup, I've fallen for another out of towner. Out of my string of dating and relationships this would make my 5th attempt for love and relationship outside of Bakersfield. I wasn't really looking for it, and I haven't been for awhile. But those two days were a breath of fresh air. Apparently he even expressed to Sandra that he's super into me. Then what the fuck am I worried about?
Sigh. Maybe its been because we were both working since yesterday, and as usual I'm reading way more into the dark side than what I should. I mean do I have anything to really go off of? Okay-we didn't talk tonight. Big deal. Hardly an indicator that this thing is already going south. Am I really that insecure? Is the answer that obvious? Sigh. A friend gave me the advice saying since this is so new to just have fun and don't put expectations on it: just go with it. Its sound advice, why can't I just go with it? I don't mean to put expectations on it. I just hate this feeling of depression and anxiety that this thing is just going to die off tomorrow. In a way its like I'm facing my fear that I mentioned last fall: I'm deeply afraid of getting burned again and I just don't want to.
All I want in the morning is to wake up and look at my phone and have a text message from him that says something along the lings "morning handsome" and then just now that for now all is okay. But for the moment I've done all I can: I've done some deep breathing, meditating, and prayer for continued healing, and for the mercy that if this is going to end that it would be done so gently because I believe my heart could not take it.
It just comes down to this. I REALLY like this guy. I could see it going somewhere. I don't want my fears to get in the way of something developing out of it nor with my well-being while something develops. I could be right in my fear, this could just end tomorrow and oh well. But I have no reason other than fear.
This reminds me of Tim's sermon today. Today was the day celebrated for the Transfiguration, where Jesus' glory is manifested fully to John and Peter on the mountain top. Tim points out that Jesus' first attempt to reveal his glory to the disciples was when he walked on water while the disciples where in the boat after the feeding of the 5000. Jesus tells Peter to fear not and come on out, but the writer of the gospel points out that Peter did not start to sink into the water because of his lack of faith, but his fear. He started to sink because of his fear. Sounding familiar.
I've done all I can. I've given it to God and asked for healing and some sanity for the night. I feel better.
But for now I'll turn the spotlight on to Matt. I met Matt though Andrew's boyfriend, who met him in the app world last November. He thought I might like him, so he sent Matt my number and we started talking last Monday. We talked for 6 hours that night, 4 hours the next. He then came up to see me and stayed Thursday through Saturday morning. I really like the guy. He is super sweet and friendly. Visually he is exactly what I go for, I mean. Wow. Really. I get this faint sense that I should already know him, or have known him longer than a week. He's a great kisser too and the sexual chemistry is very promising. At the moment the only real downfall (just a small detail I forgot to mention) is that he lives down south. Yup, I've fallen for another out of towner. Out of my string of dating and relationships this would make my 5th attempt for love and relationship outside of Bakersfield. I wasn't really looking for it, and I haven't been for awhile. But those two days were a breath of fresh air. Apparently he even expressed to Sandra that he's super into me. Then what the fuck am I worried about?
Sigh. Maybe its been because we were both working since yesterday, and as usual I'm reading way more into the dark side than what I should. I mean do I have anything to really go off of? Okay-we didn't talk tonight. Big deal. Hardly an indicator that this thing is already going south. Am I really that insecure? Is the answer that obvious? Sigh. A friend gave me the advice saying since this is so new to just have fun and don't put expectations on it: just go with it. Its sound advice, why can't I just go with it? I don't mean to put expectations on it. I just hate this feeling of depression and anxiety that this thing is just going to die off tomorrow. In a way its like I'm facing my fear that I mentioned last fall: I'm deeply afraid of getting burned again and I just don't want to.
All I want in the morning is to wake up and look at my phone and have a text message from him that says something along the lings "morning handsome" and then just now that for now all is okay. But for the moment I've done all I can: I've done some deep breathing, meditating, and prayer for continued healing, and for the mercy that if this is going to end that it would be done so gently because I believe my heart could not take it.
It just comes down to this. I REALLY like this guy. I could see it going somewhere. I don't want my fears to get in the way of something developing out of it nor with my well-being while something develops. I could be right in my fear, this could just end tomorrow and oh well. But I have no reason other than fear.
This reminds me of Tim's sermon today. Today was the day celebrated for the Transfiguration, where Jesus' glory is manifested fully to John and Peter on the mountain top. Tim points out that Jesus' first attempt to reveal his glory to the disciples was when he walked on water while the disciples where in the boat after the feeding of the 5000. Jesus tells Peter to fear not and come on out, but the writer of the gospel points out that Peter did not start to sink into the water because of his lack of faith, but his fear. He started to sink because of his fear. Sounding familiar.
I've done all I can. I've given it to God and asked for healing and some sanity for the night. I feel better.
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