"Shut up," I said aloud after I started the video. "Yanny, Yanny, Yanny," repeated the nasal voiced man as I thought, "There is no way in hell anyone could hear 'Laurel' in this." If you have no idea what I'm talking about, I'll explain. A viral Twitter post provides an audio clip of a man speaking, and like the Great Dress Debate of 2015, the internet can't decide what he's actually saying. Around half of the people think he's saying "Yanny," while the other half think it's "Laurel."

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What does it mean to be a respecter of the journey? Our own? Of our loved ones? Of the other? I think these are hard questions. I think for most of us who are trying to live this value, the tendency can be to take a quid pro quo approach: as long as you are just as respectful of my journey as I am of yours, then we are good. But if you “ break” that contract first (i.e. disrespect me), then all bets are off. I now have free rein to disrespect your intolerant and disrespectful faith/journey as much as I want to.

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Throughout my college career, I learned countless lessons; how to make my lengthy prose fit into the page requirement (change the margins), how to survive on the least amount of sleep (a love affair with coffee), how to do everything (and at the same time, never do or be enough). The stakes were high, stress was high and I wanted control of my changing world more than anything. I found myself thinking, “if I could just (fill in the blank),” I would be happier and then I wouldn’t have to worry anymore. This is where I met my enemy.

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As a History teacher and a 9 on the Enneagram, I attempt to see through my own biases. I usually try to see both sides to an argument and therefore may be especially adept at loving my enemies. What does this love look like in practice? It starts with seeking to understand the motives of your enemies' actions. Usually, I have a stance, and it almost always differs from that of my enemies. However, I don't know if love means agreeing with their thoughts or actions.

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I’m not a fan of guns. I guess they just aren’t my thing. Growing up, I played with pellet guns in my backyard using soda cans as target practice. My only memory of using a “real” gun was when I was a freshman or sophomore in high school. My uncle and cousin took me out to a field and let me shoot one of their handguns (Glock 9mm, I believe) at a book of upholstery samples, believe it or not. I can’t deny that was loads of fun for thirteen-year-old me. But with that being one of my few experiences with guns, they certainly never became important to my life. On the contrary, since they cause so much destruction in our society, I’d prefer to steer clear of them all together.

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I love sharing things I create with others, and I expect them to be good stewards by caring for and enjoying my creation to the fullest. I want to believe that God had the same intention when He shaped what we know as creation, and that He feels our love for Him when we enjoy His creation to the full extent.

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Like many fellow Imagoans (Imagonites? Dei-ists? someone please tell me!), I grew up in a fairly traditional church background. They taught (among other things), a literal Six-Day Creation, complete with flannel-graphs, finger puppets, and pastel-colored paintings. Creation really spoke to me, and I was fortunate growing up that our family took trips to national parks did a lot of hiking. It was pretty awesome as a kid to imagine mountains and valleys and rivers and waterfalls being spoken into existence in literal days.

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A few years back, I was brought to my knees by a rather unfortunate series of events. It wasn’t the first time life had broken my heart. I was sure it wouldn’t be the last. And I was tired. I was so tired and so disappointed, and even with all of the good life had brought to me, the bad continued to be exhausting and heartbreaking. I didn’t really see the point. To keep going seemed like a waste of time.

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To write about love of Creation could easily be an ode to the beauty all around each of us, all the time, in millions of ways. For me, that beauty calls to me to come in. An invitation. Know me. Remember me. We’re long-time friends. Soul mates. Feel those invisible threads tugging? We are not separate.

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Early in my spiritual journey, I encountered the idea that we can experience God through our relationships. As Victor Hugo so powerfully wrote in my favorite novel, Les Miserables, “To love another person is to see the face of God.” I still hold tightly to that idea — but in the last year, my belief in this idea has expanded. I’ve discovered that receiving love from another person is also a way to experience God actively at work in our lives. I personally experienced God’s love through the ways that others poured love, care and help into my life.

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I consciously and unconsciously carry this suitcase of dysfunctional conceptions into my relationships. Understand that ensuring my own security became a cornerstone to my thought patterns very early in life, so most of these stem from that. This suitcase didn’t keep me from being gifted with many incredible, life-changing relationships throughout the years, but it does bring a constant element of risk analysis to relationships. This is a tiring way to live.

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Because loving others is not something I can check off my to-do list, it can be challenging for me at times. I am a list person to the core. I have always been very driven and place great value in productivity, efficiency, and accomplishment. Sometimes, I think I place too much value in these things, rather than on what really matters. When I read Shauna Niequist’s book Present Over Perfect for the first time, it was like a wake-up call. I was sitting in my big overstuffed chair, snuggled in a blanket, candle flickering nearby, and my journal at the ready. Thankfully, on this occasion I was reading and really paying attention.

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I’m writing this post as I sit in Peoria’s airport waiting for a flight to Dallas. I’m going to visit my friend, Katie, and while I tend to hate sitting on a plane with the possibility of throwing up into a bag in the seat in front of me (a story for another time), this trip will definitely be worth it. In fact, this trip ties in perfectly with the idea of loving myself.

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A day spent on the couch reading and being immersed in one of Jean Auel’s epic Earth’s Children novels, getting up only to refresh my Diet Coke, or switch out the Doritos I was munching on for M&M’s to nibble — that used to be my dream day. That’s the way I thought I loved myself, when I “deserved” pampering. But, it doesn’t take long to figure out, that’s not love — that’s indulgence! And, extravagance, while great in the moment, does not fill me with a lasting satisfaction. In fact, it actually leaves me feeling disgusted with myself and useless. Ann Voskamp describes telling her teenage daughter, “Sometimes the short-term Immediate You can’t have immediate gratification so you can give the long-term Ultimate You what is ultimately best.”

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It’s rainy today. I love it. The gray, dreary clouds melting onto the world. I love the color gray in general; I also love blue. My soul loves the opposites that they represent: Dreary. Hopeful. Wonderful. Pleasing to my eyes. I find the colors next to each other as I get dressed for the day. My closet is full of these favorite colors, well-worn pieces that soften with age — like my edges, I hope. A lot of my edges feel dark. Can things feel dark? Probably.

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