i finally drove out where the sky was dark enough to see stars and i found i missed no one

the other night sahra and i went to the squire inn to the bar in the basement. we each got a drink and spent the night talking - both of us were feeling the claustrophobia that comes with working at the canyon and we needed out. so we went to tusayan, the "suburb" of the grand canyon that hosts a mcdonalds, a few hotels and a few restaurants. she asked me if i missed home / and i told her that i didn't really know what it meant to "miss" things. most of my experiences of "missing" someone or something have really been a dependence issue, or an insecurity issue. the summer i was here before i was in a very strange relationship with a boy, that was riddled with insecurity, over-dependence and anxiety - i usually described that as "missing" him. i don't feel that way about home - or pittsburgh - or my friends - or family. but, i started to think about about the sort of strange lack of longing or desire to be home. of course, i'm still unable to look at pictures from lacy and chris's wedding because i feel a lot of pain about having missed such a beautiful event that celebrated one clearest and strongest examples of love in this world, i get a little sad when i know that laurie went to ritters with someone else, or when i think about hot metal, or when i want to go to panera with sarah and talk to her until we've eaten breakfast, lunch and dinner there, or when i see a mom and her daughter that remind me of my mom, or when i see a good ranger show and wish my dad had been with me, or when something absolutely ridiculous happens and i wish my brother was there to laugh at it too - of course those things make me long for home.

but it feels so damn good here. it's like there's too much to love in pittsburgh, too many people to adore, too much to see, too much to take in, too much to smell and touch and sense and feel, too many emotions, too many restaurants, too much color - here, there is so little. it is, after all, the desert. i'm not completely alone, and i'm not living in a tent, and i do watch movies and use the internet - i'm not in the sahara. but the things that i tend to use to spend my time busying myself are almost totally absent: real friendships, kids and an intimately deep church community. i've just been wondering what it means for me to live a simple life. out here things are so simple / there is no anxiety, i never feel rushed, for the first time in 8 years i am not wearing a watch and i guess i feel that strange, illusive thing called peace.

i'm just looking for balance. i won't be able to stand this forever. but when i go back, i'm just wondering, how can there be balance?

and who wants to buy/send to me richard foster's book on simplicity?