DStilled

Seminary Does Not a Man Make

My seminary experience is nearly a fortnight old. I am sad. I am enthralled. I am restless. I am hopeful. I am me. Right now the reading is good but not at all what I want to read about so I’m finding it hard to sit down and just do it. I can’t wait ’til it’s not 100 degrees outside and humid so I can read in a place I found. Redefining myself is a worthwhile but wholly draining task and I would simply choose not to add the hours of reading to it. I do so like the space of my own mind. As my mom’s shirt reads, “They know me here.” Half of the transforming experience of seminary is the simple fact of propinquity. You throw a bunch of religious, smart, hard working people together and lives and minds will change - generally for the good. Discovering what community means here is one of my main goals this semester. Finding my role in it and setting it up in a way that I can thrive would be fantastic. Right now I just can’t care about grades. Good thing this first class is pass/fail. I want to experience the human experience. I want to cry and laugh both on my own and with people worth crying and laughing with. The thunder outside goes really well with the Gladiator soundtrack playing right now. I’m not worried about not having human experiences; I just want them right now. I want friends. Yay for moving to new places.  I’m here as an observer and not a participant.  Obviously that’s not entirely true.  But there is a notion of my presence here as a listener.  I have come here to ask questions and to be primarily silent.  At least at first.  You could say I’m acting after Nehemiah.  He went to a different home and before he jumped into things, he sat back and listened.  As many of you know, I’m a Jack of all Trades.  I want to see the vista and view the roles people are filling and how the dynamics are working.  I want to be all things to all people and to do that I must know what is needed where.  Then after assessing the situations, I’ll step in where I want to.