Thoughts from the back seat of mom's minivan

I never was much of a conformist, so I'm not going to write about anything topical. I'm such a rebel, I know. You wrote in parentheses that I know who I am, and it's true. I don't know much, but I've got a handle on that. Ice cream sundaes just aren't the same without hot chocolate. I cannot be blamed. You, from the past, wondered if you should stand strong or surrender. I can't help but feel implicated in that line of thought... perhaps it is vanity. But it got me thinking.
Mostly about you.
I don't want to control you or confine you. I don't want to change who you are, or deflect you. I don't want to buy, sell, or process you. I know the feeling of wanting to fight just for the sake of fighting. I felt that way a few years ago. A new friend with a whirlwind entrance into my life, and the best job offer I've ever received. "Come with me! Work in a coffee shop up in Denali National Park for the summer." Yes please. I'll take second helpings of Run Away From Myself. But a buzz in the back of my spine told me not to go. I agonized over it; there was nothing I had ever wanted to do more. I lost sleep, and my mind suffered through a fever of the will. By daybreak the temperature of my thoughts had finally fallen, and I felt depressingly resigned. Staying was not what I wanted to do. I bore it like a cross, bitter. But, as with most things God gives me, I eventually discovered that it was not only what I needed to do, it was what I wanted to do as well.
I told a story, which means I agree with you. My empathy is strong. It is not what I hoped: to cause you to feel stuck between what feels like freedom and what appears to be the opposite. I want freedom for you. I want you to feel free.
There is an undeniable mental space occupied by a lone soul which vanishes in the presence of another. I understand this. I am not blind to the physical laws governing human relationships. I understand what it is to feel the heart pulled towards some green patch of imagination. A garden yearned after, in which we can see ourselves as undressed, as we lived in The Beginning. I know it too. I am idly reminded, though, of our first parents, and how even in that place of peace it was not good to be alone. The symmetries I'm drawing are loose ones, but it's worth considering the things we paint ourselves to desire.
I am a devoted believer in possibility. Realizing the invisible requires this delicate hands-off involvement. It's a dichotomy. Anything good is worth working for, so it is as good as you make it. Anything good is from God, so it can be as good as you let it be. Care for a plant, but don't tell it how to grow.
I want to be the one with whom you are free.

-J