Like Father, Like Son

Near and far, I've run into this problem with many people. It's kind of funny actually... The exact thing that one instance makes me interesting, makes me infuriating the next. According to my track record, and just about any personality questionnaire, I am a very variable person. Or I guess as viewed by others, "inconsistent". And I get it, I really do. See, my father was the same way so I can relate in the frustration. Just when I thought I had him pegged, pulling from old outcomes, the verdict would come out of left-field and I'd be back to the drawing board with dusty palms and chalk-powdered pants. But the thing is, the frustration never spawned from a lack of understanding as to why he made the choice that he did- more often than not it became one of those things where once the answer was made known you felt goofy for not having seen it yourself. But that didn't make it any easier to handle. Instead, frustration spawned from the simple breach of predictability that I was comfortable with. I would get mad, even though he ended up ultimately being right, that he didn't side with me.

You can only imagine how confused and conflicted I feel that I've become exactly the same way. Sometimes I just laugh at it all. With every cathartic moment, every glimmer of self discovery, I find myself understanding my dad that much more. 

The inconsistency doesn't stop at our problem-solving tendencies and unpredictable moral codes. It brushes shoulders with every other aspect of my being, coloring me grey more so than white or black. Each day, happiness looks a little different. On a snowy Sunday, happiness can look like a dare to jump into a frozen pool. On a breezy Spring Tuesday, happiness might look like sitting still without saying a word and just inhaling slowly as the gales run through me. Maybe even staring silently out the window of a car. Or roaring wildly as I throw rocks at a passing rail-car. 

Love one day might be a grand gesture: sleek leather shoes and ironed sleeves handing over a solitary perennial just before a gourmet meal I cooked for two, while others it might be a simple sigh when I share an embrace with my girlfriend and feel completely at home. 

Every moment, day, week is different and so what I feel and the way that I feel them is different too. I know it doesn't make me an easy person to read. But I've never had a need for somebody to read me. It doesn't make me the easiest to predict but I don't care in the least to live a life that is predictable. Instead I am going to be me and continue to seek out people who don't find unrest in the silences, tension in the unknowing, or find difficulty loving all 365 variations of me that they will surely meet. 

Because the thing is... This is a trait of mine that I've come to love. It means I never let my biases lock in my judgment. It means I'm not easy to sway. Callous might be one interpretation, but it would be a vain one. I feel plenty, but everything in me and how I've been raised presses me to be impartial and fair anywhere possible-- because anger alone is not justification to condemn another. Otherwise I would not squander my time trying to repent for my sins. In my experience, this is not nearly as painless or easy as one would expect it to be. Again, the whole point of this post is pointing out how sometimes, this way-of-being leads me through fire. But my variability also makes me reachable to many. I can speak with a voice that is easy to digest, and understand the different languages through which others speak to me. I see my angle, and plenty others, at every point of contention where conflict may arise. I can find grounds to forgive when it isn't even being asked of me. I can protect those who have only hurt me, and stand up for those whose venom once put me down.

Doesn't mean I always do, but I damn sure try. What more can I say?

That's enough thinking for tonight.

Life is good,
God is great,
And I'm excited for what's to come